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I

THE RISE AND FALL

or

THE IRISH

FRANCISCAN MONASTERIES,

AUB MEMOIRS OF

THE IRISH HIERARCHY

IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

BY THE REV. 0. P. MEEHAN, M.R.I.A.

THIRD EDITION.

• - •,

/ * • • •

I •

DUBLIN :
JAMES DUFFY, 15, WELLINGTON-QUAY

LONDON: 22, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1870.

k

DUBLDn
6 AND 7, Or. Bbuhswick-st.

TO

SIR Jo BEENAED BURKE, C.B., LL.D.,

THIS LITTLE VOLUME

IS

AFFECTIONATELY AND RESPECTFULLY
AS A TRIBUTE TO HIS PRIVATE VIRTUES,

AND IN

ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF HIS INVALUABLE HISTORICAL AND
GENEALOGICAL RESEARCHES,

BY HIS OBLIGED AND GRATEFUL FRIEND,

C. P. MEEEAN.

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.

It has been observed by some profound philo-
sopher that the author who commits his name to
a title-page without trembling, must have formed
a pretty fair estimate of his own capacity. The
truth of the reflection is sufficiently obvious and
suggestive. Although cogently premonished by
it — ^yet, after full consideration, I persuaded myself
that the materials I had gathered together, would,
if judiciously handled, make an interesting volume,
to which a name might be affixed without much
fear or anxiety. Whatever undue influence a pre-
valent frailty of the literary genus may have had
on my own appreciation of the performance, as-
suredly nothing was further from my anticipation
than the success which has attended this volume.
The contrary result happens to have been my pre-
dominant calculation. I was apprehensive that
the book would find readers only among the elect
class that delights in antiquarian lore, and the
biographies of men over whose graves the shadows
of two or three centuries have rested. My mis-
givings were doomed to be speedily dispelled by

Vi PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.

the sale of three thousand copies within a month
since their first publication.

To sweeten this unexpected event, I have also
had the satisfaction of learning from some of the
most distinguished men in the land, as well as
from many a son of toil, that I have contributed
to their entertaiment and information in depart-
ments of our history, where others have ad-
mittedly failed. The worthy publisher may indeed
rejoice at the result; but his complacency cannot
equal what I experience in finding that I do not
come within the category of that author of whom
a famous critic said, "he has written a book to
prove that he should never try his hand at another;"
and, above all, that my work has not been doomed
to that most melancholy of isolations — a perpetual
incumbency on the shelves of a book-shop.

C. P. M.

S,S, Michael and JohrCsj DMin,
March 5th, 1869.

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

Thb papers in this vohune first appeared in the ffibemian
MagazmSt and had the s^ood fortune to be highly praised
by tiie presSy and many mends, dlerical and lay, who urged
that thev i^ould be presented to the public in a more
durable form.

The opening part of the series can, as an original work,
hardly be called mine ; for I have done little more than
fidve a free version <^ Father Mooney's Latin Manuscript
History of the Irish Franciscan houses — a copy of which I
procured from the Burgundian Library, Brussels — and
enrich his details by cleaning from various quarters what-
ever could heighten we value of the good Father's perfor-
mance. I have also cast it into a dramatic shape as the surest
means of imparting to it a lively and engaging character.

I did not aim at producing a history of aUthe Franciscan
houses which formerly existed in Ireland ; but the reader
will find HB account of the most celebrated among them as
they were before the Suppression, and as Father Mooney
saw them either in their incipient decline, or in their
desolation. The ruins of many of those establishments
still remain. Wbosoever visits them, with this book in his
hand, will have fiy his guide the eenial old friar, who, more
than two centuries ago, described them so accurately and
pathetically, and certainly in such way as none of his
successors could pretend to do.

Archdall and others of his class furnish drv unoircam'
stantial dates; but Father Mooney peoples his periods,
enables us to assist at theveiy founding of those venerable
houses ; nay, familiarises us with the inmates, their pur-
suits, and usages, and interweaves with his narrative many
curious incidents, which, but for him, must have been lost
for ever. .

The study of his manuscript often solaced me in cark and
cloom — for both will be, vifforous brain and disillusioned
heart, notwithstanding ; and I would hope that the perusal
of this version may convince the reader that, be his ills or
sense of wrongs ever so great, perhaps better men have
known greater, and borne them with that indomitable
patience which empowers us to possess our souls.

■6

t

CONTENTS.

%^t inu'mu W^suittfm,

TAam
CHAPTER L

Monastery of Donegal,

CHAPTER II.

O'Neiirs letter to James I. — Carr, earl of Somerset —
Camden's Annals — The Spanish Armada— Lord
deputy Fitzwilliams — Archbishop Loftus — Exe-
cution of Hugh Gaveloc — Monastery of Adare, . 19

CHAPTER III.

Tyrone and the Bagnalls — ^His marriage to Mabel —

The Monasteries of Drogheda and Dundalk, . 28

CHAPTER IV.

The Monastery at Multifeman— Origin of the Name
^Foundation of the Monastery — The Dela-
mers — The Nugentsof Delvin and Donore— The

h

CONTENTS.

rxQt

Monastery plundered and burnt by the Englisb
— The Friars imprisoned in the Castle of Balli-
more — Escape of Father Mooney — Cruelties
perpetrated on the Prisoners — Richard Brady,
bishop of Rilmore — Re-establishment of the
Friars in Multifeman — Notice of distinguished
Members of the Community, • . .40

CHAPTER V.

Church and Monastery of Kilcrea — Its beautiful Site
and Architecture — The Tomb of MacCarthy of
Muskerry — The Church and Monastery plun-
dered in 1584 — ^Again in 1599 — Fathers Mac-
Carthy and O'Sullivan—Church and Monastery
of Timoleague — Plundered and damaged by Eng-
lish Soldiers, who are cut to^pieces by O' Sullivan,
Prince of Bear — Lyons, Protestant Bishop of
Cork — Dilapidates Timoleague — Persecutes the
Catholics, . . • • « 52

CHAPTER VI.
Convents of Moyne, Rosserick, and Eilconnell/ . 59

CHAPTER VII.

Monasteries of Galway, Rosserilly, Kenalehan, and

Creevalea, . • . . .73

CHAPTER Vni.
Monastery of Olonmel, . • ' « • 87

- 11 ^ ! ■ ■■ . I "iT" 1 ^" '^ ' ^ "^ - | ., — . 11 »■

CX>NT]SNTS. Zl

Sfet Insfe |ur»rtl[j*

CHAPTER L

PAOS

Ilmuccini cliased by a Parliament frigate — Lands In
Ireland — His reception in Limerick — Cornelius
0*Dea — Legend of the mitre — 0*Dwyer, bishop
of Limerick — O'Queely, archbiahop of Tuam —
His death, obsequies, epitaph, . . .94

CHAPTER IL

Binuccinrs reception in Kilkenny — T. Walsh, arch-
bishop of Cashel — Shearman, the schoolmaster'a
letter — ^Archbishop Walsh's epitaph, . ; 107

CHAPTER IIL

Fleming, archbishop of Dublin— M. de Oviedo —
O'Deveny, bishop of Down and Connor— His
execution — Eugene MacMahon, archbishop of
Dublin— Patri^ CahiU, P.P., 8S. Michael and
John, . . .... 120

CHAPTER IV.

John de Bnrgo, archbishop of Tuam— His contest
with Rinuccini — Is compelled to quit Ireland-
Returns, and dies — His epitaph, by O'Flaherty
and O'Meara, . . . . .137

CHAPTER V.

MacCaghwell, archbishop of Armagh — Hugh
O'Reilly— Malmorra, Tfie SUxslwr — Dease,
bishop of Meath— His epitaph, . . . 156

XU COlfTKNTS.

TAGK

CHAPTER VI.

. 174

Rothe, bishop of Ossory — His writings-rl^^^^ —
Place of sepulture, .

CHAPTER VII.

Peter Lombard— The Waddings— Comerford, bishop

of Waterford— Death of, . . - 197

CHAPTER VIII.

Terence A. 0*Brien — His early life — Advanced to
the bishopric of Limerick — Arrested by Ireton
— His execution, . * . . 215

CHAPTER IX

Heber or Emer MacMahqn, bishop of Clogher — His
early career— Death of Owen Roe O'Neill —
MacMahon takes command of the Ulster army-—
Is defeated by Ooote, near Letterkenny — His
last moments and execution, . • . 234

THE

EISE AND FALL

OF

THE FRANCISCAN MONASTERIES

IN IRELAND.

THE MONASTERY OF DONEGAL.

On the evening of the 16tli of August, 1617, two Irish
FraDciscans were seated in the library of the house which
they occupied at Lou vain as a temporary domicile for them>
selves and community, pending the erection of the convent
of St. Antony, the first stone of which had been laid a few
months before by Albert and Isabella, joint sovereigns of
the Netherlands. These two friars, fathers PurceU and
Mooney, were both advanced in years; but the latter,
though considerably older than his companion, was still
hale and vigorous, notwithstanding the austerities of clois-
ter life and the hardships of his early career ; for in youth
he had been a soldier, and served in the army of the great
earl of Desmond, till the power of that once mighty pala-
tine was utterly destroyed. Tired of camp life, and
hoping to pass the remainder of his days in the calm
seclusion of a convent, he ultimately took the habit of St.
Francis, and, after due probation and a brief course of
studies, was ordained priest, and advanced to various offices
in the venerable monastery of Donegal, where he resided
till the year 1601. Father Purcell, unlike his colleague,
took the habit of St. Francis when he was a mere stripling,'
and proceeding to Rome, passed the greater part of his lite
in that city, "miere his learning, and, above all, his profound
knowledge of the classics, placed him on a level with the
most erudite of his day. Ketunung to Ireland, he resided

B

2 THE RISK AND FALL OF THE

for some time in the convent of St. Francis at Kilkenny,
till at length the combined forces of O'Neill and O'Boniiell
were routed at Kinsale, and he, like most of his brethren,
had to fly for shelter and protection to Louvain, where the
Irish Franciscans met cordial welcome from Albert and
Isabella. Indeed, so solicitous were the archdukes — the
title by which the joint sovereigns were designated— for the
comfort and advancement of the Irish Franciscans, that
they not only assisted in person and with great pomp at
the laying of the first stone of the Irish monastery at
Lonvain, out also bestewed considerable endowmente upon
it, in order that it might serve as a sanctuary for the per-
secuted Iiish, and a seminary for the training of future
missionaries.

At the period of which we are writing, father Mooney was
provincial of the Irish Franciscans, and father Purcdl taught
rhetoric, philosophy, and theology to the small community,
the first of whom had been admitted to the noviciate in the
year 1607. Next to his desire of beholding a spacious monas-
terv erected for the Irish Franciscans in the old Flemish city,
fatner Mooney had nothing so much at heart as to leave be-
hind him a history of the houses of his own order in Ireland ;
but although thoroughly acquainted with the annals that
chronicled their foundation, and having been a personal
witness of the terrible calamities that befel most of them,
he, nevertheless, felt himself incompetent to write anything
like a succinct narrative of their rise and falL A history 3.
the Irish Franciscan monasteries should be written in Latin,
and Mooney's imperfect knowledge of that language de-
terred him from undertaking such a task. A man, the
greater part of whose early life had been spent among
kerne and galloglass, bivouacking in the glens of Aharlow,
driving preys, and making fierce inroads on the bawns o£
the English, when they were wresting the fair valleys of
Munster from the followers of Desmond, had little time,
and perhaps less inclination, for the study of Thucydides or
Tacitus. Nevertheless, from the moment he had renounced
sparth and matehlock, and taken the cowl in Donegal, his
mind was constantly set upon his cherished project ; and he
resolved to collect all available fragments of the history
of the Irish Franciscan monasteries, trusting that he might
one day meet some member of his order &Ue to cast them
into a readable and interesting memoir.

FBANOISCAN MONASTERIES IN IRELAND. 3

This laudable ambition was stimulated by other oonsi>
derations. The great families of O^Neill and O'Donnell
had long been the benefactors of the Irish Franciscans in
Ulster— nay, founders of their monasteries, and protectors of
tiieir order, at a time \^hen English law proscribed their
very existence, and decreed the dissolution of their time-
honoured institutions. During the entire of that war which
those two princes waged against Elizabeth, and which did
not terminate tDl the disastrous victory of Kinsale, father
Mooney passed much of his time in the camps of the chief-
tains, ministering to the wounded and dying on many a
well-fought field, where their valour stemmed for a while
the tide of English conquest. In fact, he witnessed all
their fitful triumphs on tne Blackwater, in Tyrone, as well
aa in the passes of the Curlew mountains in Gonnaught ;
and he finally beheld the French brigantine sailing away
from Lough Swilly, freighted with the chief families of the
old Celtic nobility, whose banishment and ruin involved
that of his entire order. At the time when he conceived
the idea of writing a history of the Franciscan monasteries
in Ireland, most of those chieftains were lying in their
foreign graves — one, the greatest of them all, in Valladolid,
and the others in the crypts of the Janiculum at Rome :
but their representatives were still living on the precarious
bounty of the Spanish government, some serving in the
armies and fleets of that power, and one in particular —
Bernard, youngest son of the great earl of Tyrone — occupy-
ing the distinguished place of page in the court of Albert
and Isabella at Brussels. Gratitude for benefits conferred
on the Irish Franciscans by the ancestors of those fallen
chieftains, and remembrance of the protection which the
latter extended to the order during the reign of Elizabeth,
were of themselves sufficient motives for kaving a lasting
record of both— a record, too, which in all likelihood might
advance the interests of the exiled nobles in the homes of
their adoption, and secure for them the esteem and venera-
tion of their compatriots, should keaven ever restore them
to their forfeited domains.

Influenced by such motives, father Mooney spent the
greater part of the year 1608 visiting the various monas-
terioB of his order in Ireland, collecting, as we have already
observed, every waif and stray that related to their earlv
history, carefully treasuring the legends pertaining to eacn

4 THE RISE Ain> VALL OE THE

of them ; and what is still of greater interest to ns, faith-
fully chronicling the vicissitudes of those venerable insti-
tutions, after the friars — or, as the annalists term them,
*'the sons of life" — had been obliged to emigrate and
seek shelter either in the unfrequented glens of their own
land, or in the hospitable asylums which were thrown open
to them on the Continent.

The facts which he had thus gleaned and rescued from
oblivion, needed some careful hand to give them shape and
order ; and to the end that such a work might deserve a

Elace in the library of the Irish convent of St. Antony at
rouvain, then fast approaching completion, father Pnrcell
undertook the task of digesting the valuable papers which
were committed to his charge, and translating them into
Latin. On the evening we have already named, the two
friars were seated together poring over the pages which
father Purcell had just then completed ; and no sooner did
Mooney's clear grey eye light on the word '* Donegal,'' than
the tears streamed hot and fast down his channelled cheeks,
and then, after a moment's pause, he turned to his com-
panion, and said: — ** Dear brother, read for me the history
of that monastery I loved so well — aye, and that I love
still, though it is now a lonely, rifted ruin. From time to
time you must refresh my memory out of the pages which
owe BO much to your graceful Launity ; but mind that you
read slowly, for I am growing dull, and without tiiat
Italian pronunciation, to which these aged ears are but iU
accustomed."

Father Purcell crossed his arms on his breast, bowed
reverently to his superior, and then opening the volume at
the place indicated, read in the origimu Latin, of which we
give a faithful paraphrase^ the following history of the
monastery of Donegal : —

It was in the year 1474, when the Franciscans were
holding a provincial chapter in the monastery of Ross-
Eial, 3iat Nuala O'Connor, daug[hter of O'Connor Faily,
one of the most powerful of the Lemster princes, and wife of
Hu^h Hoe O'Donnell, came, accompanied by a brilliant fol-
lowing of noble ladies, and a goodly escort of kerne and
gidlo^ass, to present an humble memorial to the assembled
fathers. When the latter had duly considered the prayer
of the Lady Nuala's memorial, they deputed the provincial
to inform her tibat they could not comply with her requebt

FRANCISCAN MOllASTSRIES IN IRELAND. 5

at that moment, bnt that at some future time they would
cheerfully send a colony of Franciscans to the principality
of Tirconnell. * * What ! " replied the princess, sorely pained
by the refusal. * * I have journeyed a hundred miles to attain
the object that has long been dearest to my heart, and will
you now venture to deny my prayer ? If you do, beware
of God*s wrath ; for I wUl appeal to his throne, and charge
you with the loss of all the souls which your reluctance
may cause to perish in the territory of Tirconnell 1** Earnest
and energetic was the lady's pleading ; so much so, that
she ultimately overcame the hesitation of the friars, some
of whom professed themselves ready to accompany her to
Tirconnell. Proud of her success, the lady Nuala then
set out on her journey homewards, followed by a goodly
number of Franciscans, who, when they arrived in the barony
of Tir-Hugh, immediately commenced building the far-famed
monastery at the head of the lovely bay of Donegal. The
site, indeed, was happily chosen, and nothing could surpass
the beauty of the prospect which it commanded. Hard by
the windows of the refectory was the wharf, where foreign
ships took in their cargoes of hides, fish, wool, linen cloth,
^and falding ; and there, too, came the galleons of Spain,
laden with wine and arms in exchange for the merchandise
which the lords of Tirconnell sent annually to the Brabant
marts, then the great emporiums for the north of Europe.
In sooth it was a lovely spot, and sweetly suggestive of
holy meditations. In the calm days of summer^ when the
broad expanse of the estuary lay still and unruffled, mir>
roring in its blue depths the overcanopying heaven, was it
not a fair image of the unbroken tranquillity and peace to
which the hearts of the recluses aspired? And in the
gloomy winter nights, when the ^reat crested waves rolled
in majestic fury against the granitic headlands, would not
the driving storm, wreck, and unavailing cry of drowning
mariners, remind the inmate of that monastery that be bad
chosen the safer part, by abandoning a world where the
tempest of the passions wreaks destruction far more appal-
ling? But the lady Nuala died before the building was
finished, and good reason had the friars to cherish lasting
remembrance of her piety and munificence. Her remains
were interred in a vault which her widowed lord caused to
be constructed almost under the grand altar, and he also
determined thiit thenceforth his entire posterity should^
repose in the same crypt.

6 THE IBSR AND FALL OF TUB

Id the course of that year (1474), Hugh Roe O'Donnell
took to his second wife Fingalla, daughter of Conor O'Brien,
king of Thomond ; and this lady, emulating the virtues of
her predecessor, spared no pains in forwarding the work,
till at length she saw the monastery, with its church,
cloisters, diapter-house, refectory, library, and other ap-
purtenances, entirely completed. The dedication of the
sacred edifice took place in the jsame year, and a more
solemn spectacle wa& never before witnessed in Tir-Hugh —
nay, not even in the days of blessed Columba, that greatest
of all church-builders. The munificence of O'Bonnell and
his wife Fingalla to our friars was unbounded ; for, not
satisfied with presenting rich altar furniture to the church,
they also bestowed some quarters of fertile glebe on the
monastery, and, furthermore, gave the friars a perpetual
right to fish for salmon — nay, and authorized them to build
a weir just where the Esk empties its sUvery waters into
the bay. This was matter of great convenience to the
monastery during the Lenten and other fasts which the
rule of St. Francis prescribes ; and, indeed, so much did
salmon abound in the waters of the bay, that I myself, in
the time of my noviciate, have often seen the friars taking,
right under the windows of the infirmary, prodigious quan>
titles of this delicious fish at one haul of the net.

In the year 1505, Hugh O'Donnell, who, at the instance of
his first and second wife, conferred so many benefits on
the Franciscans of Donegal, died in the castle which he
had erected within bowshot of the monastery, and was
buried with great solemnity in the sepulchre that he caused
to be built for his last resting-place. After his demise the
lordship of Tirconnell devolved on his son, Hugh Oge, who
was duly inaugurated at KUmacrenan. As soon as his
mother saw him in undisputed possession of his rights, she
abandoned all the pomp and state of a princess, ana caused
a small residence to be erected for her near the monastery,
where she passed the remainder of her days in prayer,
almsgiving, and penitential austerities, till she was finally
laid in the same tomb with her husband. He, indeed, was
a^full moon of hospitality ; and during his roJgn such was
the security for life and property in aU the borders of Tir-
connell, that the people only closed their doors to keep out
the wind I

In the pexBon of his successor, the Donegal mcma^ry had

FRANCISCAN MONASTERIES IN IRELAND. 7

a faithful friend and zealous patron, who desired nothing
FO much as to have the vacancies caused by the decease <3
its early colonists, most of whom came from Connaught,
filled up by natives of his own principality. And, indeed,
his wisn was ultimately realized, nor was it long till he
saw a community of forty Franciscans, mostly his own
oatiye-bom subjects, domiciled in Donegal.

In 1510 this Hugh Oge set out on a pilgrimage (to Rome,
where he spent two years ; and on his way back to Ireland,
tarried sixteen weeks at the court of Henry VIII. , who
received him as an independent potentate. The career of
this prince was singularly fortunate ; for during his reign
the seasons, and the sea itself, were favourable to the people
of Tirconn^L As for the Franciscans, he was their con-
stant benefactor ; so much so, that when a general chapter
of the order met in the monastery of Donegal, he generously
supplied that large assemblage with food and Spanish wines.
Always triumphant in the iield, he achieved the still
grander victory over self, by taking the habit of St. Francis
m our monast^y, where he died and was buried in 1537.
Two-and-twenty years previous to that period, Mcnelaus
MacCarmagan, bishop of Baphoe, took our habit, and was
buried in the same monastery ; and in the year 1550, Rory
O'DonneU, bishop of Depy, feeling death approach, re-
quested to be clothed in our coarse serge, and oniered that
his remains should be laid in our cloister. Nor was it as a
restinfi^-plaoe after their earthly race was run that the great
and high-born desired our peaceful solitude : far otherwise
indeed ; for many a valiant chieftain, tired of life's transient
glories, and many a noble of the oldest lineage, famed in
bardic song or chronicled in history, severing every tie that
bound him to the world, came to Donegal, and there cast
away sword, scutcheon, and such worldly vanities, for our
poor habit and holy conversation. Long before the great
emperor Charles abdicated an empire for the solitude of St.
Just, princes of Conal Gulban's line might be seen in the
cloisters of Donegal, enjoying that peace which nor he nor
they could ever find in mundane glories.

Indeed, during the one hundred and twenty-seven years
of its existence, no house of our order, at home or abroad,
could boast of men more distinguished for their virtues.
But to anticipate all accidents of time, and re^icue from
oblivion the memory of one of onr brotherhood, whose

S THB RISE AND FALL OF THB

wonderful sanctity shed lustre on the monastery of Donegal,
I deem it my duty to record in these pages what I have
learned of him from the lips of those who were living wit-
nesses of his holy life; for, indeed, he was singularly
blessed with the gift of miracles.

Father Bernard Gray — sumamed "Pauper," from his
unparalleled love of holy poverty — ^was a native of the
ancient city of Clogher, where his opulent parents bestowed
sedulous pains on his early education. Even from his in-
fancy the child was the admiration of all who came in
contact with him, and as he grew up his virtues were the
theme of every tongue. Arrived at man's estate, a power-
ful chieftain of Fermanagh offered him the hand, heart,
and wide domains of his fair daughter ; but the proposal
was hardly made when Bernard disappeared from the scene
of his childhood, and entered on his noviciate in the monas-
tery of Donegal During the entire of the probationary
period, his whole life was a practical commentary on the
rules of our sainted founder, whose self-denial, and -above
all, love of poverty, were the constant subjects of his me-'
ditations. After completing his studies, and receiving the
order of priesthood, father Bernard's eminent virtues
shone out, if possible, still more conspicuously, his love of
retirement and total seclusion from the world notwith-
standing. Faithful in the discharge of all the monastic
duties — always the first in the choir, when the midnight
bell called the friars from their hard pallets— and glorying
in the coarse habit for which he had cheerfully exchang^
purple and fine linen ; he, to all appearances, seemed to
nave inherited the glowing fervour and profound humility
for which holy Francis was celebrated during his mortal
term.

The fame of this man's sanctity and wisdom soon sped
beyond the borders of Tirconnell, and reached the ears of
Gerald, earl of Kildare, who was then lord deputy.* Desi-
rous of ascertaining what credit he should give to the mar-
vellous anecdotes related of father Bernard, the earl sum-
moned him to Drogheda, to preach in the presence of his
entire court. Bernard obeyed ; and so charmed was Kildare
with his eloquence and pietv, that he not only invited him to
dine at his table, but gave him precedence of ail hia nobles.

* A.D. 1083.

FIliJ7CISCAN MOKASTEBIES IN IRELAND. 9

After dinner, Kildare requested him to entertain the com-
pany by narrating some passages in the life of St. Francis, and
proving, at the same time, that God had bestowed the choicest
privileges on this holy personage. Bernard complied ; and
when he came to speak of the smgular privileges with which
God invested our holy founder, he pithuy remarked:
" Were there no other evidence of the transcendent honour
wifc^ which the Lord has crowned blessed Francis, I think
that what you have witnessed here to-day should be amply suf-
ficient. Surely, my lord, when you treat with such deference
a man wearing this poor habit, nay, and give him precedence
of all your nobles, it must be manifest that God has exalted
St. Francis to the highest place in the heavenly court."
** I agree with you, " replied the earl ; * * and I now proclaim
to this noble company that you have read my inmost tnoughtp«
I summoned you hither in order to test you in person ; and
when I gave you the most distinguished place at my table,
I was actually thinking of the honour with which your
holy founder has been received at the banquet of the hea-
Yemy court. I am now convinced that you are a special
favourite of the Most High.*' Next day the earl craved his
blessing, and dismissed him with many presents for the
convent of Donegal.

As a complete narrative of the miracles wrought through
the instrumentality of father Bernard would fill many a
goodljr page, I will mention only a few of them here. One
night in Lent, when it was his turn to serve the brethren at
'supper, the guardian playfully remarked that the fish was
very bad, and that the salmon seemed to have deserted the
weir which prince O'Donnell built for the benefit of our
community. **The Cistercians of Ashro,"* said the guar-
dian, ''have salmon in abundance ; and surely the Esk was
ever fishful a river as Saimerf of the blue streams. How
oomes it, then, father Bernard, that we take no salmon in
our weir?" '* I know not," replied the latter. *' Well,
then," continued the guardian, "I command you to bless
the weir in the name of Him, at whose word Simon's net
was filled with fish till the meshes snapped asunder, in the
lough of Genesareth. I know that you are a special instru-

* Ballyshannon, where the O^Caniuians founded the Cistercian monas-
terrin 1184.

t The old name of the Erne, which falls into the sea a short distance
below Ballyshannon.

10 THE BISB AND PALL OF IHS

ment in the Almighty's hands ; do, then, as I tell you."
Bernard obeyed ; and thenceforth the weir of our monastery
nevermore lacked abundance of salmon and trout. On
another occasion a creaght,* who used to receive alms for
our monasteiy, came to teU him that a fatal distemper was
destroying h^ sheep and cows. Bernard pitied the poor
man, and gave him a vessel of water which he had blAssed,
telling him to sprinkle his flocks with it in the name of the
Trinity. ** Avoid," said he, '* the spells and incantations
of wicked people, calling themselves fairymen ; but recite
the creed and angelic salutation." The creaght hastened
home, did as he was directed, and lo ! his sheep recovered,
and his cows, ever afterwards, gave more than the usual
quantity of milk. In gratitude to God and father Bernard,
the man erected a mound of stones on the summit of Drom-
hearr^f to commemorate such signal mercy ; and even to
this day that mound is called BriarCa Cairn,

Singularly remarkable were the circumstances of this holy
man's death ; for, when worn down by penitential austerities,
heaven forewarned him of the very hour of his dissolution.
One evening, after vespers, the friars hastened to the infir-
mary, for they knew tnat he was in his last agony ; and
when they knelt round his poor pallet, after the supper-bell
had rung, he raised himself up, and told them to go to the
refectory, ** Go, go I" said he ; ** for my soul shall leave
earth to-night, in company with that of the chanter of
Armagh cauiedral." The friars obeyed his command, and
on their return found him kneeling, though dead, his sight-
less eyeballs turned heavenwards, and his rigid arms out-
stretched in attitude of prayer. This occurred in May,
1549 ; and the guardian lost no time in sending messengers
to Armagh, to ascertain if Bernard's friend was still living.
On their arrival they learned that the chanter had died at
the veiy moment of Bernard's departure, and after telling
those about him that on that same night a sanctified soul
should leave Donegal xnonastery for the kingdom of the
just.

' For fully half a century after the decease of this venerable
brother, our monastery continued to flourish in peace and
happiness, under the fostering protection of the princes of
Tirconnell. In the interval, countless fugitives from the

• Anglic^, grazier. f The top of the reck.

FIIANCISCAK MONAETTERHS IN IRELANB. 11

Pale came with etrange tidings to onr friars, telling them
how king Henry of England had decreed the spoliation of
the religious houses, and how his immediate successor, and
his wicked counsellors, had laid sacrilegious hands on the
gold and silver of many a sanctuary. The Franciscans
pitied their plundered brethren of the Pale, but they neyer
• thought that similar horrors were one day to overtake them-
selves. Wars, fierce and bloody, it is true, wasted Tircon-
nell, when Shane O'Neill, in his mad ambition, strove to
reduce all Ulster to his sway ; but although the fields of
Tir-Hngh were desolated by tire and sword, and the prince
and princess of Tirconnell lay fettered in the stronghold of
Shane the Proud, still no faggot reached our roof -tree, and
no hand profaned our altars. Nor is it to be supposed that
we lacked wherewithal to tempt the cupidity of the sacri-
legious, were such to be found among the clansmen of
Tyrone or Tirconnell. Quite the contrary ; for many years
afterwards,* when I was sacristan, no monastery in the
land could make a goodlier show of gold and silver than
ours. During the time I held that office, I had in my cus-
tody forty suits of vestments, many of them of cloth of
gold and silver — some interwoven and brocaded with gold —
the remainder silk. We had also sixteen silver chalices,
all of which, two excepted, were washed with gold ; nor
should I forget' two splendid ciboriums inlaid with precious
stones, and every other requisite for the altars. This rich
furniture was the gift of the princes of Tirconnell; and, as
I said before, no matter what preys the Tyronians might
lift off O'Donnell's lands, there was no one impious enough
to desecrate or spoil our sacred treasury. We fed the poor,
comforted them m their sorrows,' educated the scions of the
princely house to whom we owed everything, chronicled
the achievements of their race, prayed for the souls of our
founders and benefactors, chanted the divine offices day and
niffht with great solemnity ; and while thus engagea, the
tide of war swept harmless by our hallowed walls.

But it was not heaven's will that our peaceful domicile
should always be exempted from outrage and invasion ; for,
alas ! the mad dissensions of the native princes precipitated
their own ruin, which involved ours. The O'Donnell who
then ruled the principality had grown old and feeble j and

• A.D. 1600-1.

12 THE BI6B AND FALL OF TUX

were it not for the energy of his wife, who possessed the
heart of a hero and the mmd of a warrior, her younger son
Donnell would have wrested the wand of chieftaincy from
the feeble grasp of his hoary parent. The latter, it is true,
had been valiant in his day ; but his wars against Turlogh
O'Neill, then the ally of queen Elizabeth, ^ and the blood
and treasure he lavished in defeating domestic treason, ren-
dered him unable to repel the encroachments of the English.
To add to his miseries, his eldest son Hugh had been cap-
tured by the deputy Perrott, and recommitted to the dun-
eeon of Dublin castle, after an unavailing effort to baffle
Eis pursuers. A second attempt^ however, proved success-
ful; for when the avaricious Fitzwilliams replaced his
attainted predecessor, the former, for a bribe of a thousand
pounds, given, as was said, by the baron of Dunfi;annon,*
connived at the flight of the illusfrious captive, who, after
tarrying fourteen days in the fastness of Glenmalure, spurred
hard across the English Pale, and finally reached his father's
castle at Ballyshannon.

Good reason had the people of Tirconnell to rejoice at the
escape of Hugh Roe ; for during his imprisonment the en-
tire principality was plundered by Fitzwilliams' sheriffs
Imd captains, to whom he sold the M)pointments. The
more remote the shire and the more msh, the larger the
sum paid. One Boen, for example, obtained a captaincy
for a bribe of two gold chains, which he gave to the sordid
deputy's wife ; and another, named WiUis, got a similar
preferment for sixty pounds. These unscrupulous marauders
pillaged the country and held the heads of families in their

grasp till ransomed, some for two hundred, others for three
undred, cows ; and when the cattle were not forthcoming,
they tortured their prisoners by frying the soles of their
feet in seething butter and brimstone. As for our friars,
they were obliged to betake themselves, with their muni-
ments and altar-plate, to the fastnesses of the mountains, to
avoid Willis and his brigands ; who, a few months before
Hugh Roe's return, swooped down on Donegal in the dead
of night, killing thirty of the inhabitants, and« occupying
the nipnastery as a earHson. But the day of deliverance
Was nigh ; for Hugh Roe had hardly been inaugurated at
EilmAcrenan, when he marched with his trusty clansmen

* Hugh O'Neill.

FRANCISCAN MONASTERIES IN IRELAND. 13

on Donegal, and laid siege to the monastery into which
Willis and his rabble had driven three hundred head of
cattle. Sensible of the straits to which he was reduced,
Willis threatened to fire the buildings ; but the young
prince, anxious to preserve the sacred edifice, suffered him
and his people to depart unharmed. The friars returned
immediately afterwards; and O'Donnell, for such was now
his name aud title, seeing the poverty of the district —
swept so bare by the English— offered to support the com-
munity and repair the buildings out of his own revenues, if
we would forego our usage of questing from door to door.
The proposal, however, was declined ; and the people, their
scant means notwithstanding, shared their last morsd with
us.

For fully nine years after the inauguration of Hugh Roe^
the monastery of Donegal enjoyed uninterrupted happiness ;
for indeed the young prince — or, as he was more generally
styled, "the son of prophecy" — ever proved himself our
special b&i^e!actor. After joining his forces with O'Neill's,
these two gi eat princes defeated queen Elizabeth's armies
on majiy a hard-fought field— nay, and so routed them,
that bcr craftiest deputies ^nd bravest marshals were often
fain to sue for truce and peace, no matter how humiliating
the conditions. Bight heartily did the friars of Donegsd
pray lor the success of their prince, for the repose of tne
clansiaen who fell in his cause ; and oh, how their jubilant
voices made vault and cloister ring, when forty throats
i)ealed out ** Te Deum " for the defeat of Norris at Clonti-
Dret, Bagnal, on the field of the Yellow Ford, and Clifford,
in the passes of the Curlew mountains 1 The father of
Hugh Roe always assisted at those grand solemnities ; for,
after resigning the name and title of O'Donnell, he lived
almost constantly among us, preparing himself for the
better life, and doing penance for his sins, the weightiest of
which was a cruel raid on the wrecked Spaniards of the
Armada, whom he slew in Innishowen, at the bidding of
deputy Fitzwilliams. He died full of years, and we buried
him, clothed in our habit, in the tomb of the lords his pre-
decessors.

And lest it might be thought that the Franciscans were
uncharitable to the enemies of O'Donnell, I will now state
a fact which clears them of such an imputation. When
Morrogh, lord Inchiquin, was slain by our prince's troops

14 THB BISE 1.ND PALL OV THE

ftt the ford of BallyBhaimol],* Burrogh, the defeated deputy,
had the body interred in the Cistercian church of that
place. Three months afterwards, our friars ch^imed the
remains ; and when O'Donnell and two bishops decided
the controversy in favour of us, we exhumed the corse, and
buried it with great solemnity in the cloister of DonegaL
Inchiquin was the foeman of our liege lord, but the
O'Briens were always buried in Franciscan churches ; and
was not this Morrogh a scion of the race of the noble lady
who did so much for the Franciscans when they first settled
inTir-Hugh?

In 1601 our community consisted of forty friars ; and in
that same year, so memorable for calamities, the English
government landed a large force of horse and foot, under
the command of Docwra, on the shores of Lough Foyle.
rhis general was instructed to sow dissensions amone the
Irish, by setting up chieftain against chieftain, and holding
out every bribe that mi^ht induce officers and men to aban*
don the standard of their liege lord. The scheme prospered ;
and — alas that I should have to record it ! — Nial Garv, oar
princess brother-in-law, went over to the enemy with a
thousand of his followers. The perfidious wretoh stipulated
that he e^ould have all Tirconnell as a reward for his trea-
son, which placed Deny, Lifford, and many other strong
places in the hands of the English. O'Donnell was in Tho-
mond when the news- of the revolt reached him, and he
lost not a moment in hastening homeward to inflict sum-
mary vengeance on his faithless kinsman) who combined
the venom of a serpent with the impetuosity of a lion.
Having had timely notice that Nial, with the revolted Irish
and his English auxiliaries, were marching on Donegal, we
placed all our sacred furniture in a ship, and removed it to
a placid of safety. I myself was the last to go on board
tiiat vessel ; and as for the rest of the brotherhood they
fled to the wooded country, where they awaited the issue
of the impending contest. On the 10th of August, the
feast of St. Laurence, martyr, NiaTs troops took possession
of our monastery and of another belonging to the Francis-
cans of the third order, that lay close to it at Magharabeg.f
Assisted by engineers from an English war-ship at anchor

* A.i>. 1697.— Athcooloving, on the Erne, l>etween Belleek and Ball^-
Bhannon.
t The little plain.

FRANCISCAK MONASTBRIXS IM IBBLAND, 15

in the bay, the traitor threw up earthworks before the two
monasteries, streDgthened the castle of Donegal, then con*
siderably dilapidated, and made every preparation for a
yigorous defence. Meanwhile O'DonneU arrived, pitched
his camp at Carrig, within two thousand paces of Donegal,
and resolved to give Nial and his followers no rest, night
or day, as long as they reihained within the desecrated
walls. A series of hand-to-hand conflicts, in which Kial's
people suffered severely, ensued ; and in the course of a
lortnieht many of the revolted Irish, repenting their trea-
son, deserted in twos and threes to our pnnce's camp.
Cooped up in the monasteries, and so vigilautly watched
by 0*Donnell that they could not come out into the open
coantryto lift preys, Nial's people began to mutiny; when,
on the night of Michaelmas, the powder stored in the
monastery of Donegal took fire, whether accidentally or by
the special interposition of heaven I know not, and ez«
ploded with a terrific crash, that was heard far out at sea—
nay, and scared the wild deer in the coverts of Barnesmore.
Oh, the appalling spectacle ! Hundreds of the besieged were
blown to atoms ; others, and among the rest Nial's own
brother, were crushed to death by masses of the rent
masonry ; and all that night, while the woodwork of the
buildings blazed like a red volcano, in whose glare friend
and foe were distinctly visible to each other, 0*Donnell*s
swordsmen pressed the survivors back across their trenches
into the flames, where upwards of a thousand of them
perished miserably. Nor should it be forgotten that a ship,
laden with munitions for the besieged, ran on a rock, and
went to pieces that very night, just as she was entering the
bay of Donegal. Next morning Nial proceeded, unobserved
by 0*Donneil's troops, along the strand to Magharabeg,
and returned, under cover of the guns of the English war-
vessel, with the soldiers he had left in that place, deter-
mined to maintain himself to the last, among tne smoulder-
ing ruins.

D*Donnell immediately shifted his camp nearer to Done-
sal, and continued the siege till October ; when, being
mformed that the Spaniards had landed at Kinsale, he
struck his tents, and marched to their assistance

Let me draw a veil over the disasters which befel our
prince, and console myself bv recording that O'Dunlevy, a
niar of Donegal, received his latest sigh, and that the

16 THE BISE AND FALL OF THK

Franciscan monastery of Yalladolid holds his mortal re-
mains.

In the year 1602, Oliver Lambert, the English governor
of Connaught, seized the entire of our sacred furniture,
which he desecrated, by tuming the chalices into drinking
cups, and ripping up the brocaded vestments for the vilest
uses. Thus periled that fair monastery, -with its treasures
of gold, and silver, and precious books.

" Ergo tarn doct« nobis periere tabellae,
Scripta quibas pariter tot periere bona I'*

Some years afterwards, Rory, the brother of O'Donnell,
who had obtained a considerable portion of the wide do*
mains of his ancestors, together with the title of earl — ah,
how inferior to that with which the prince of Tirconnell used
to be invested on the sacred rock of Kilmacrenanl — set about
restoring the monastery of Donegal ; but learning that the
English were plotting against his Ufe, he fled with the
ereat O'Neill to Rome, where they both died, and were
buried in the Franciscan monastery on the Janiculum.
Thus were our poor friars left without a protector, and the
rebuilding of the monastery unfinished. The English, who
now possess the whole country, suffer the old friars to pass
the residue of their years among the mountains and glens,
because they know that they must all die out very soon ;
but they will not allow them to receive any young mem-
bers. Such is the actual condition of our community in the
neighbourhood of that once fair monastery I loved so well,
and over whose ruins mine aged eyes have wept.

"But, father," said Purcell, closing the book, "you
have not told us how it fared with Nial Garv.*'

*' May God assoil him !" replied Mooney. ** He was
treated as he deserved — for the En&lish seized him ; and al-
though Apsley, lieutenant of London tower, reports * tJiat
liial did the state as great service as any man qfhis nation,
in the late queen? s reign^^ nevertheless, he and his son
Naghtan, whom they took from Oxford college, are still
held in chains, without hope of enlargement, x^ial shared
the fate of many other traitors — the English used them for
their own purposes as long as they required their infamous
services ; and when their work was done, flung them to rot
in a dungeon."

At this moment a lay-brother entered the apartment,
and told father Mooney that a courier from the court of

FRANCISCAN MONASTERIES IN IRELAND. iT^

the arclidukes was waiting to see him on a matter of seri-
ous moment. ** Let him come in," replied the good friar;
'* for assuredly the archdukes have unequalled claims to
our poor attentions."

" Father," said the courier, as he crossed the threshold,
" their highnesses have charged me with a doleful mission.
I have ridden in hot haste from Brussels, to inform you that
Bernard O'Neill, son of the great earl of Tyrone, and page
to the infanta, has been found murdered in his apartment
this afternoon.'*

" Murdered !" exclaimed the two friars.

" 'Tis too true," continued the courier. " The fact haer
astounded all Brussels. The court goes into mourning
this very night, and the obsequies will take place to-
morrow, in me cathedral of Saint GuTlule, where their
highnesses «xpect the presence of your reverend com-
munity."

**But what Judas perpetrated the horrid deed?" de-
manded the aged friar, covering his face with his hands.
'* Was it some fiend in human shape, like those whom Cecil
and Mountjoy employed to assassinate his illostridus father
by dagger or poison ?"

**I Know not," answered the courier ; "for, aa yet, the
whole affair is shrouded in mystery. The noble youth was
found strangled in his own lodgings, to which the murderers
got access in the absence of his tutor and two valets, mere
striplings, one of whom was Irish and the other French.
Doubtless it would have been perilous to attempt such an
atrocity in the palace of the archdukes, and the murderers
— be they who they may— sought their opportunity in the
page's private lodgings. His throat bears marks of violent
compression ; and, alter life was extinct, the perpetrators
of this execrable villany suspended the corse by a cord five
feet long, to make it appear that he conmiitted suicide.
Their highnesses' chinirgeon, however, affirms, after a care-
ful autopsy, that he was cruelly murdered. Who could
think that he would commit suicide ?'-

' ' He ! " interrupted the provincial. ' * His noble soul never
harboured such a base thought. Alas, alas, we knew
him well ; for his father entrusted him to the care of our
friars here in Lou vain when he was only nine years old/
Would to God that he had brought him with him to Rome,
where he would have been farther removed from the swoid

18 THE RISE AND FALL OF THE

enemies of his race and creed ! But heaven*8 will be done,
and let us bow to its inscrutable behests. Dear, generous
youth, what a hapless lot has been thine ! — ^how rapidly hast
thou followed thy glorious father to the grave !* Among
all thy compeers there was none like to thee, for
comely face, virile sravity, and heroic virtue. Foremost
in our schooLsi, most distinguished in all science that be-
came thy lofty lineage, thou wouldst have rivalled thy
lather's deathless deeds, had heaven spared thee to our hopes
and bleeding country. Ah, how often has this old heart
thrilled with joy, when T heard the archduchess call thee the
iurest rose in her garland —and oh, with what ill-suppressed
emotion have I listened to our archduke — ^whom may God
preserve ! — ^telling how, instead of being enervated by four

J rears of court life, thy knowledge of booklore, love of
earned men, and skill in every chivalrous exercise, raised
thee far above all thy youug competitora. Woe to the
impious hand that wrought the heinous deed ! — woe to the
envious heart that conceived it ! Envious ! Alas, doth not
experience teach that the sordid and grovelling plod their
way through life imharmed and little noticed, while tho^
who channel a distin^ished course for themselves, either
by the innate force of their own genius, or the perpetuation
of ancestral fame, become targeto for the poisoned diafts of
calumny — nay, and often objects of the murderer's implac-
able hatred ? God rest thee, Bernard, son of Hugh ! and
since we cannot lay thee in thy father's grave, we will
crave it as a boon that thy loved remains be given to us,
and interred in our new church, where, unless my f orecast-
ings deceive me, many another Irish exile shall await the
resurrection. Go, kind sir, and tell their highnesses that
we will hasten to Brussels to-morrow morning, after hav-
ing chanted mass and requiem for the soul so untimeously
sent to its account."

"Father," continued the provincial, addressing his col-
league, after tiie courier had retired, ** let us try to suatch
a few hours' sleep, if the dolorous tidings we have just
heard will suffer it to visit us. We will resimie our reading
some other time, and I will unfold certain matters of great
interest which do not come within the scope of your volume.
Peace be with you ! — good night !"

* Hugh O'Neill died in 1616, Just one year before the mnrdeif of his

VBAKCISCAK U0NASTER7ES 117 IBSLAKD. 19

CHAPTER n.

OTTeiirs letter to James I.— Can* earl of Somerset— Camden's Annals—
The Spanish Armada— Lord depnty Fitcwilliams— Archbishop Loftiis
— Execntion of Hugh Gaveloe— Monastery of Adare.

Two evenings after the obsequies of the young page, father
Mooney and his coUeagne Purcell were seated in the little
library, talking over the event which had spread consterna-
tion through aU Brussels, and hazarding various conjectures
anent the motives which might have led to the commission
of such a horrid crime.

** For the present," observed the provincial, " the whole
affair is shrouded in darkest mystery; but I trust that
Providence will sooner or later overtake the murderer, and
hold him up to the execration of mankind. For my own
part, I am convinced that the atrocity was instigated by
some of those who bore a deadly hatred to the great earl
of Tyrone, and who at present have an interest in his
plundered domains.**

**But, father," asked Purcell, "what could the under-
takers, or planters as they are styled, have to apprehend
from a mere stripling, like poor ill-fated young ^rnard?
Surely, king James, the crowned pedant who now reigns,
never entertained a thought of restoring Tyrone even to a
portion of his vast estates !*'

*' Strange as it may seem to you," replied the provincial,
'*8ome of the undertakers did fear that king James would
reverse the outlawry, and call back Tyrone to Ireland. As
you may not be aware of the fact, I may as well tell you
that there was a negotiation afoot for Tyrone's recall from
Kome; and that James's prime favourite, Somerset, encou-
raged the noble exile to memorial the kins for an act of
obuvion and indemnity. Tyrone adopted the su^esiion ;
and just three years ago, wrote to the king, statuig * that
he had given no other cause of just indignation, than leav-
ing the royal dominions without licence,liaviDg been there-
unto constrained by unjust vexations, and sundry oppres-
sions of some of his majesty's ministers.'* It is likely
enough that such an appeal to mercy might not have alto-
gether failed had Somerset continued in James's favour ; but
in ^e following year the murder of sir Thomas Overbury,

« See**i1ightoftbeEarl8,"p.85e.

20 THE RISE AND VAIX OF TUJi

ia wHch tlie minion and his countess were accomplices,
and for which both would have been sent to the block, had
they not possessed some awful secret affecting the royal
character, put an end to all correspondence between the
king and the earl of Tyrone. The latter died last year ;
and, although his brother Oormac is now a prisoner in the
tower of London, it is not unlikely that the good offices of
our archdukes, Ferdinand and Isabella, womd have been
employed in behalf of him and his lamented nephew.
Intervention of the sort would not have been slighted ; and
it is for this reason I conjecture that the young lad's death
was compassed by some of those undertakers, as they call
themselves, who have an interest in his forfeited estates.
Be that as it may, I pray God to avenge the blood of
slau^tered innocence."

** Withal, father," resumed Purcell, "it is difficult to
imagine that the king's pardon would ever have been
extended to Tvrone ; for, besides the war of ten years
which he waged against the English, the greatest of their
historians has charged him with an act which lowers him to
the level of a vulgar hangman. Accident has just thrown
into my hands a Latin work by one "William Camden,*
entitled ' Annals of England and Ireland during the reign
of Elizabeth;' and I find that this very elegant and erudite
author represents Tyrone in the most odious colours. Let
me read the passages, for I have no doubt that you will
criticise them fairly. Writing of the events of 1589, he
says : * Hugh Oavehc, so called because he was a long time
a chained prisoner, the natural son of Shane O'Keill,
accused Hugh, earl of Tyrone, of holding treasonable
parleys with certain Spaniards who were thrown on the
Irish coast in the late wreck of the Armada. The earl
desiring to. escape the charge, ordered that Gaveloc should
be arrested and strangled ; but finding that no one could
be had to do the office of executioner— so great was the
respect for the name of O'Neill — he himself it is said,
adjusted the rope, and put the unfortunate man to death.'
A little furthec on, Camden gives us a portrait of the great
earl. * His body,' says he, ' was capable of enduring hard*
ships, long vigils, and wiant of food ; and as for his mind,
it was insatiable, equal to any sort of statecraft, skilled in

* Fiibli8hedixil61&

FfiANCIBCA^ MONASTERIES IK IRELAND. 21

Wftrfare, and profoundly versed in diBsembling ; so nrach so,
that most people regarded him as bom either for the great
weal or the great woe of his country.' "

** YovL have read quite enough to convince me," inter-
rupted the provincial, " that Camden, of whom I never
heard before, is a plagiarist, or, as the adage has it, a beg-
gar dressed in stolen clothes. Without pretending to a
very extensive acquaintance Vith classics, 1 remember the
same description of Catiline in Sallust ; and it seems to me
that in this particular instance Camden hath appropriated
another man's words. Doubtless the description is fair
enough ; but anent that power of dissembling, which I do
not gainsay, I will merely observe, that Tyrone acquired it
in the school of Burghley and Cecil, who were masters of
the craft. Then, again, it is said that dissimulation is the
art of kings, and that he who does not know how to dis-
semble is not fit to reign. 80 thought the great emperor
Charles Y. ; and assuredly Hugh, earl of Tyrone, was for a
time a true sovereign in his own principality. Ajb for the
insinuation that he hanged Gaveloc with his own hands,
-t is absolutdly false ; and I suspect that Camden was in-
debted to sir Nicholas White, master of the rolls in Ireland,
for the statement he has left on record. Indeed, the said
White wrote to Burghley, the high treasurer, that Tyrone
did hang Gaveloc with his own hands, when he could get
no other to do it — nay, and that he refused a ransom of
300 horses and 5,000 cows for the unfortunate man's life.
This I had from Tyrone himself. But as you have alluded
to the unfortunate Armada, I will premise some facts that
may not have come to your knowledge, as you were in
Italy when they occarred. At the time when the Spanish
ships were wrecked on the northern and western coast of
Ireland, Fitzwilliams, the lord deputy, and Adam LoftOs^
the queen's archbishop of Dublin, distinguished themselves
in a manner that I think should not pass unnoticed. The
deputy, who was the most sordid man that ever held that
high office, lost no opportunity of making a profit of it ; and
no sooner did he learn that some of the crews of the Spanish
vessels had been saved in Galway and Inishowen, than
he marched with a considerable force to the ancient City of
the Tribes, where he caused the unfortunate sailors to be
arrested, and closely searched for any valuables they might
have on their persons. The search, however, was frukleii^

VTfl

22 THE RISE Ain> FALL OV THE

and 80 sorely disappointed was the a\aricioa8 deputy, that
he ordered two hundred of those wretched men to be exe-
cuted on the hill where the Augustin f nara had their con-
vent. Pursued by the curses of the people of Galway, who
were unable to prevent this cruel butchery, Fitzwilliams
hurried on to luishowen, where, not satisfied with slaying
many of the disarmed Spaniards, he carried off all the cattle
of the district, burnt the haggards, and made prisoners of
sir Owen O'TooIe and O'Doherty, although the former had
entertained him sumptuously in his own house. On arriv-
ing in Dublin, O'Doherty was set at large, but the aged
OToole was thrown into the castle dungeon, where he died
after a long imprisonment.

** It was precisely at this period that Loftus, the queen's
archbishop of Dublin, made nis celebrated reply to Burgh-
ley, the high treasurer, accounting for what ne termed the
general backwardness in religion, and showing how it
might be remedied. A few extracts from that remarkable
document, of which a copy has fallen into my hands, will
show you how the archbishop and the deputy strove to
forward the reformation. * Your lordship, wrote Loftus,
' hath most wisely considered that the aword alone without
the word is not sufficient to bring the people of this realm
frompopery— a thing whereto they are misled over from
their cradles. But I assure your lordship, that unless they
be farced, they will not ever come to hear the word
preached ; as by experience we observed at the time ap-
pointed by the lord deputy, for a general assembly of all
the noblemen and gentlemen of every county, after her
majesty's good success against the Spaniard, to give Grod
thanks for the same : at which time, although the sheriffs
of every county did their duties with all diligence, and
warned all men to repair to the principal church, where
order was taken for public prayers and tnanksgivin^ unto
God, together with a sermon to be preached by choice men
in every diocese, yet very few or none almost resorted
thereto ; but even in Dublin itself tlie lawyers in term time
took occasion to leave the town on purpose to absent them-
selves from that godly exercise. It is bootless labour for
any man to preach in the country out of Dublin, for want of
hearers ; but in mine opinion tlus mky be easily remedied,
if the ecclesiastical commission be put in force, and if liberty
be left to myself to imprison and fine -9^ such u are ob-

rBAHCISCAN MONASTSBIES IN IRELAND. 2^

fltinate in popery — nay, and to send such of them as are able
to bear their own expenses to England, for example sake.
The sooner this course of reformation is begun the better it
will prosper, and the longer it is deferred the more dan-
gerous it will be.' "

*' A strange device," remarked father Pnrcell, ** and as-
suredly a most cruel mode of propagating a creed. Fines and
imprisonment for what they termed recusancy, were poor
arguments for the apostolicity of the new reli^on. Never-
theless, Loftus^ lament over the failure of his mission
reflects credit on the Irish Catholics, and on the lawyers in
particular. It is manifest, too, that the Irish did sympa-
thize with the shipwrecked Spaniards."

** Most certainly," resumed the provincial: ''and be it
recorded to the honour of the women of Galway, that they
provided shrouds and coffins for the mariners so inhumanly
massacred by Fitzwilliams. O'Rourke, of BrelSTny, afforded
protection to many of them — nay, refused to surrender
them to Bingham, the queen's governor in Gonnausht ; and
the MacSwynes, of Tirconnell, treated others of them with
their wonted hospitality. As for Tyrone, he entertained
some of their most distinguished captains at Dungannon, thus
bringing on himself the dark suspicious of the English, and
giving Gaveloc a pretext for accusing him of holding a trea-
sonable correspondence with king Phuip of Spain. Touching
the manner of Gaveloc's death, however, and the reasons
which compelled Tyrone to compass it, Camden is entirely
mistaken; and to show you how sedulously his enemies
laboured to blacken the character of the greatest Irishman
of his age, I will now give you a brief and veritable ac-
count of the circumstances which preceded and accompanied
the execution. Hugh Gaveloc returned to Strabane early
in 1589, after having spent a year and a-half in Scotland,
where he met some of the survivors of the Armada, whom
Tyrone had sheltered in Dungannon. Worming himself
into their confidence, they unbosomed themselves to him,
and gave a glowing description of the hospitality which
tiiey had received in the earrs house, at this very moment
when Fitzwilliams's soldiers were searching for them along
the coasts from Sligo haven to the headlands of Inishowen.
What the Spaniards may have said of the earl's devotednesa
to king Philip, I have not been able to learn ; but an inter-
cepted letter, despatched by Gaveloc to the deputy, left no

24 THE BISB AND FALL OF THS

doubt that he intended to impeach Tyrone of high treason
before the privy counciL In fact, he wrote that he * fiad
great matters to reveal^ which would be more better for her
majeaitfs commonweal thAn a thousand pouTids / and con-
cluded by * craving Jus honour not to pardon any man of
great estimation, and specially the man whom the bearer of
tlie letter was to name, as he was forthcoming for maUers of

S-eat importance,* till he himself, Gaveloc, had repaired to
ublin castle. The man to be named by the messenger
was the earl of Tyrone, who, as soon as the letter fell into
his hands, resolved to keep close watch on the movements
of the writer. Presuming that he had thus secured for
himself the support of the English government, Gaveloo
committed several murders and robberies on the people in
and about Dungannon; till Tyrone, no longer able to endore
such wanton atrocity, had him seized, and tried according
to the ancient custom in Ulster, where, as yet, there was
no course of English law, judge, sheriff, or magistrate, and
where, from immemorial time, each lord of a sept had un-
restrained power to deal summarily with evildoers. The
lord deputy was in Galway at the time of Gaveloc*8 arrest,
and the chancellor wrote to Tyrone, entreatine him not to
put the sentence in execution till his lordship had returned
to Dublin. Out of respect to the chanceUor, and yielding
to the urgent instances of his brother Cormac, Tyrone gave
the prisoner a respite of fourteen days, on the strict under-
standing that Bryan, Con, and the rest of Gaveloc's
brothers, should submit themselves to him, and that one
of the three should always remain pledge for the other two
by turns, and at his choice, stipulating at the same time,
that if they failed to perform this within fourteen days,
then Gaveloc should be hung without further delay.
Gaveloc, confiding in his brother Con, agreed to tne
arrangement ; but the latter, setting no value on the
compact into which he had entered, and caring little
for the prisoner's fate, violated his solemn oath, and re-
fused to return to Tyrone, who, at the expiration of the
fourteenth day, caused Gaveloc to be executed, in presence
of his brother Cormac, Art O'Haean, and more than a
hundred others, whereof part were oi the most distin^isbed
men in the country. The executioners were Lou^hhn Mac-
Murtagh and his brother, who came from the borders of
Meath and Cavan. Camden, therefore, ventilates a foul

VRlNCaSCAN MONASTXBIES IN IBXLAND. 25

Calumny, when he msiauates that Tyrone lowered himsell
to the level of a hangman. The termination o£ this affair
was very curious ; for when the deputy affected to be wroth
with Tyrone for hanging Gaveloc, he replied, that he had
done no injury to the h,tter^ hut that if any injury was done,
him, itwoiS by Con O'NeUl, who fell from a reasonable compo-
sUioHf in whose d^auU execution folloujed. Gaveloc's death
took place in January, 1590 ; and in the March following,
Tyrone obtained the deputy's licence to proceed to London,
where, taking up his abode in the house of sir Henry
Wallops he remained three weeks restrained from her ma*
jesty*B court and presence, till he convinced the lords of the
privy council that he had only acted according to the
ancient laws of his country, by ridding society of a notable
murderer, whose father had slain his father and brother,
and whose many crimes justified him in cutting off so
vile a miscreant. Elizabeth was finally placatoa by his
artful pleading, and Hatton, the far-famed dancing chan-
cellor, and lora Ormond, offered themselves as securities
that the earl would be forthcoming in Ireland whenever it
might suit deputy Fitzwilliams to arraign him for having
taken the law into his own hands. Tyrone soon afterwards
returned to Ulster ; but he had not been long there when
Fitzwilliams summoned him to appear before the privy
council. Having signified his readiness to obev the man-
date, he despatohed his secretary to Dublin, witn orders to
provide a splendid banquet, at which he was to entertain
the chiefest of the English nobility on the night of his
arrival The gueste were all assembled when Tyrone
entered the city after sunset ; but instead of going at once
to preside at the feast, he rode to the castle, and presented
himself to the deputy, who received him with great show
of friendship, and told him to return on the morrow. Ty-
rone was well aware that Fitzwilliams had received private
mstructions to arrest him ; but as he had no wish to join
O'Donnell and the other nobles, then prisoners in the castle,
he remounted his horse, and spurred hard all nighty till
daybreak saw him beyond the northern boundary of the
Pale. The guests imagined that he had been detained by
the deputy on matters Estate ; but Tyrone was fully satis-
fied that he had acted as became an honourable man, by
presenting himself when smnmoned, and thus exonerating
nis bailsmen from all responsibility. These,'* continued

\

26 THI BIBB AND FALL OF THI

the proTmcial, " are some of the incidents which I smid did
not come within the scope of your yolume ; bat let us now
return to our subject ; and as I fon^t to gire yon my glean-
ings anent the monastery of Acutre^ tiuce your pen and
write while I dictate."

** Father," observed Purcell, "I was anxious to leant
something concerning Tyrone's conduct in that extraordi-
nary marriage with Mabel Bagnal, sister of the marshal of
that name."

"Some other time,'* replied the provincial, "I will
satisfy your curiosity on that head ; but let us now save
from oblivion the little that I have to relate concerning our
monastery of Adare. ''

Father Purcell took a pen, and wrote^ from his superior's
dictation, the following narrative : —

*' Of all our Munster monasteries, there was none more
beautiful than that of Adare, whose ruins look down on the
silvery Mague. This venerable edifice stands twelve miles
south-west of Limerick, and within eight of the Shannon,
where the Mague pours its tributary waters into that
mighty river. The Franciscans are mainly indebted for
this monastery to Thomas, seventh earl of Eildare, and
Joanna, his wife, daughter of James, earl of Desmond, who
laid its first stone in 1464, and erected the church and a
fourth part of the cloister within tiie same year. Eildare
and his countess were munificent benefactors to our brother-
hood ; for, not satisfied with furnishing the church with
glass windows, they also bestowed upon it a bell of great
value, and two silver chalices. The church was consecrated
in honour of Michael the Archangel, on the saint's festival,
in 1466, precisely one year before the decease of James,
earl of Desmond, who was executed in Drogheda, for 'foster-
age, alliance, and alterage with the Irish."

** The places consecrated as cemeteries outside the
church, were the cloister, within and without, and both
sacristies, together with a field which was destined for
public sepulture. South of this a small j)atch of ground
was left uhconsecrated, in order that it might be reserved
for those who were deprived of Christian burial. The re-
maining portions of the building were completed by different
persons, whose names are inscribed in an ancient register,
which I saw in the hands of father James Hickev, formerly
guardian of the convent^ and which was read in the chapter*

FRANCISCAN MONASTERIES IN IRELAND. 27

room on all Fridays of the year, when it was customary to
pray for the health of our benefactors' souls. Cornelius
O'Sullivan erected the belfry, and made an offeriDs of a
silver chalice burnished with gold. Margaret Fitzgibbon,
wife of Cornelius O^Dea, built the great chapel ; and
John, son of the earl of Desmond already mentioned,
erected a second chapel of minor dimensions, to which
Margaret, wife of Thomas Fitzmaurice, added a third,
smaU, indeed, but exquisitely beautiful. O'Brien of Ara
and his wife built the dormitory, while Bory O'Dea com-
pleted a portion of the cloister, and presented a silver
chalice. Marianus O'Hickey, who subsequently took our
habit and died in Adare, built the refectory; and it
was he who furnished the northern side of the choir with
its beautiful panellings and stalls. l>onald O'Dea and
Sabina, his wife, finished another portion of the cloister; and
Edmond Thomas, knight of the Glens, and his wife, Honora
Fitzgibbon, built the infirmary. The latter died May,
1503. Another lady, wife of Fitzgibbon, added ten feet to
the length of the chancel, in order that the priests might
have ampler space about the great altar, and she likewise
caused a vault to be constructed for herself under the choir.
O'SuUivan, who erected the belfry, died in 1492; and
Margaret Fitzgibbon, who built the chapel dedicated to the
Blessed Virgin, deceased January, 1483. Donough, son of
Bernard O'Brien, who built the dormitory, died on the vigil
of the feast of St. Francis, 1502 ; and our founder, Thomas,
earl of Kildare, departed March 25, 1478. Joanna,. his
wife, died on the feast of St. Antony of Padua, I486, and
was interred in the sacred edifice that owed so much to her
m unificence. Amonff the other illustrious personages buried
in our convent of Acuire, was Raymond de Bursh, a friar of
our order, and bishop of £mly, who died Jmy 29, 1562.
He is said to have been the last bishop of £mly, for the see
was united to that of Cashel in the time of his successor.

<* When I was in Cork I saw a considerable portion of
the sacred furniture of this convent in possession of father
Thomas Fitzgerald, who showed me a very beautiful silver-
gilt ciborium for the most holy sacrament, a silver cross
used in processions, and six or seven chalices, nearly all of
which were washed with gold. He also had the register
of the convent, and various suits of sumptuous vestments,
which were seriously injured by timi^

28 THE RISE AND FALL OF THE

"Daring the wan of the greftfc earl of Desmond, our
frian were ejected from the convent of Adare ; and when
queen Elizabeth bestowed the desecrated edifice on one
Wallop, a soldier of fortune, he allowed it to go to ruin.
When I visited it the roof had fallen in, but the wiJls were
still standing. Withal it may one day revert to the Fran-
ciscans for whom it was built ; and even if it should not,
these few particulars of its history cannot be wholly useless.
£nough for the present ; so let us postpone the narrative of
Tyrone's marriage with Mabel Bagnal till we have more
leisure for goadp."

CHAPTER IIL

Tyrone and tiie Bagnals—His Marriage to Mabel—The Monasteries of

Drogheda and Dundalk.

"Now, father/' said Puroell, " I will remind you of your
promise, and ask yon to tell me all you have glean^ of
Tyrone's marriage with Mabel Bagnal."

" In good faith, dear brother," interrupted the provincial,
" 'tis a subject that I would fain eschew, for *quid mona*
chis cum foRminis f or, in other words, what have we poor
friars to do with gossip of the sort ? Nevertheless, I will
keep my word, and teU you all that I remember of an
event which caused great noise in its day ; for, strange as
it may seem to you, Tyrone's marriage with Bagnal's
sister was made a question of state, not only in Dublin
castle, what time Fitzwilliams was lord depu^, but also
in the Honor of Greenwich, where Burghley and other
lords of Elizabeth's privy council treated the matter with
as much gravity as ii it perilled the continuation of English
dominion in Ii^land. I myself often spoke to Tyrone on
the subject, and I need hardly tell you that he complained
bitterly of the manner in wmch he was dealt with by sir
Henry Bagnal, his brother-in-law, nay, and by the lords of
the privy council, who insinuated that he not only carried
off Mabel against her will and consent, but married her
while his lawful wife was still alive. I could not enume-
rate all the letters that were written on this subject ; but
I remember well that Tyrone showed me the entire corre*
Biwndenoe, including his own answers to the charges laid
against him by Fitzwilliams, the lord treasurer, and (^ers of

FRANCISCAN MONASTERIES IN IBBLAND. 29^

the queen's cabinet. Withal, as I said before, I'd rather
eschew the subject altogether, and leave it to some Irish
seanachie with the i^oius of that good Lope de Vega, who,
after delighting all Spain with the exquisite beauty of his
muse, renounced Parnassus for Calvary, and sword and
shield for the cowl and rosary of a Carmelite in the monas-
tery of Toledo.

" I deem it necessary, however, before entering into a
detail of the circumstances connected with Tyrone's mar-
riage, to inform you that sir Nicholas Bacnal, the first of
that name who figures prominently iu our nistory, came to
Ireland in 1542. lliis Nicholas was a native of Stafford-
shire, in England ; and being a hotheaded ^alliard, killed a
man in a brawl, for which he had to fly his own conntry,
and seek refuge in Ireland, where, at the urgent entiieaty of
Con, first earl of Tyrone, he received paurdon of Heniy
YIII., and in course of time became an energetic enemy of
the O'Neills. Having obtained lar^e grants of land in
Down — ^the principality of the MacGmnesses— he laid the
foundation of the modem Newry, and there built a strong
castle, in which he resided constantly. Earlv in the reign
of Elizabeth he was appointed marshal of the queen's
forces in Ireland, and wnen he died his son sir Henry 8uc«
oeeded to all his honours. The latter was a man of consi-
derable ability at the pen, for he wrote a description o£
Ulster in 1587 ; but if fame does not belie him, he was at
heart a very craven. Sharing his father's hatred of the
Irish, and intent on his own aggrandizement, he lost no op-
portunity of adding to the grants which he inherited ; so
much so, indeed, that he ultimately became one of the most
active of the supplantinff foemen of the O'Neills and their
subordinate lords. When the MacMahon of Monaghan
was executed at his own door, bv the infamous order of
deputv Fitzwilliams, sir Henry mgnal received a consi-
derable portion of the murdered chieftain's lands ; and there
can be httle doubt that he hoped to oust Tyrone himself,
and share the partition of his wide domains. He was, in
sooth, a greedy adventurer, restless, rapacious, unscrupu-
lous ; in a word, one who deemed it no sin or shame to aid
in any process by which the rightful occupant might be
driven from his holding, provided he got share of the spoil.
This man hated Tyrone with implacable animosity ; and
indeed the earl reciprocated ^ sentiment— nay, bxwided

Vn^lBCT

9Q THS BZSB LSI} FALL OV THS

him in public and private as a coward, who ehmnk from
the ordeal of single combat."

*' Single combat I" intermpted father Parcell. '* Surely
Tjrrone was not justified in accepting or proposing such r

"Have you not read,*' replied the provmciaH **how
Wenceslaus, the canonized duke of Bohemia, offered to
enter the lists and fight his mortal enemy, Radislaus ?"

** Yes,** answered father Purcell ; ** but the legend tells
how an angel armed Wenceslaus in celestial panoply, and
forbade his adversary to unsheathe the sword.

" Be that as it may," continued the provincial, ** Bagnal
refused to encounter Tyrone, when the latter proposed to
meet him — nay, slunk away like a craven, although the
earl offered to allow the dastard to come armed from head
to foot, against him in hose and jerkin, to encourage him
the rather to accept the chaUenge. Bagnal was valiant
enough with the pen, when indicting charees of covert
treason against T^^ne — a perfect master of fence when
nothing but the pen was needed to deal an assassin thrust ;
but when there was question of cold, glittering steel, his
heart melted within lum like wax. In fact, like the pedant
king James who now reigns, he trembled at sight of a
drawn sword.'*

*'And yet,** resumed Purcell, "is it not strange that
this man allowed his sister to marry Tyrone ?"

" Allowed her I** replied the provincial. " Therein you
are wrong, for he did his utmost to prevent their union —
nay, sou^t to dissolve it when it had been effected. But
let me tell you all that I know of the wooing and wedding.
Tyrone's wife, the countess Judith, sister of Hugh Roe
0*Donnell, died early in 1590 ; and some months afterwaMs
the earl met, I know not where, but most likely in Newry,
Mabel, sir Henry*s only sister. Fascinated by the beauty
of the Enelish diunsel~for indeed she was a comely creature,
just entenng her twentieth year — and captivated by the
winsome crace of her manners, the earl resolved to marry
her, and, like au honourable man, declared his intentions
to her brotiier. Sir Henry, on hearing the proposal, raised
some foolish difficulties about the indviliiy of the earl's
country, as though there were no lordly halls in Dungan-
non, sweet-souncUng harps, tender matrons, whiterbosomed.
maidens, blooming gardens, and genial hearts in all Tyrone ;
but his real objection was to part with the lady's dowry of

TAANCIBOAN MONAfiTXBIES IN IBELAIH). 3V

m. \

one thonsand pounds, which he held in trust. Tyrone ar-
ranged to settle a jointure on Mabel ; and she, dear creature,
had made up her mind to marry him, with or without her
churlish brother^s consent. Finding that his sister had set
her heart upon the earl, sir Henry refused to allow the nuptial
ceremony to take place till he had receivedletters from queen
Elizabeth's cabinet sanctioning the project ; and in the
meanwhile he caused Mabel to be removed from the castle
of Newry to Turvey, some eight or nine miles north of
Dublin, the residence of sir Patrick Barnwell, to whom her
sister was married. How it fared with the marshal's ap-
plication to the queen's ministers I never heard ; but 'tis
quite certain that Mabel's removal to her sister's mansion
aid not realize her brother's intent ; quite otherwise indeed,
for the earl followed her to Turvey, and employed all his
persuasive eloquence to obtain lady Barnwell's consent to
the match ; and I need hardly say that she was little loath
to see her fair sister mated with one Whose ancestry, chi-
valry, and wide domains entitled him to the hand and heart
of tne most nobly-born dame in Christendom, Sir Patrick
Barnwell gave willing ear to his pleading ; and as for Mabel,
such was the vehemence of her love, that she then and
there solemnly trothed herself to Tyrone, who presented
her with a chain of £old, as a symbol of that union in which
their hearts were to oe linked for evermore. The ' trmUhtd '
took place early in July (1591), and towards the dose of
that month the earl, accompanied by a gay retinue of Eng-
lish gentlemen, went to dine at Turvey, where their host
made them good entertainment, and where it had been
previously arranged that Mabel should bide her opportu-
nily, and leave we mansion with a gentleman who came
in IVrone's suite. And in ffood faith she was true to her
word ; for, after dinner, wnen the guests were betaking
themselves to various games, she mounted on horseback
behind the earl's friend, who, followed bv two serving-men,
never drew briiUe till they arrived at the house of a Mr.
Warren, who lived at Drumcondra, within a mile of Dub-
lin. As soon as the earl ascertained that his 'prey' — T
nse his own word — ^was well forward on her road to the
place aereed upon, he, too, mounted his horse, and, accom-
panied oy his English friends, spurred hard after his lady-
love, l^ere was no time to be lost in solemnizing the
ifcq^til^s ; and the earl despatched a messenger to Jones, th»

d2 THB BISB AND FALL OT THK

queen's bishop of Meath, who happened to be in Bnblin at
tnat moment, praying him to hasten without delay to
Warren's house, where his presence was urgently needed.
The bishop, for aught I know, may have imagined that
Tyrone was about to renounce his faith ; but if any stich
idea haunted his mind it was soon removed, when, on
entering the house, he found arrangements made for a
weddinff, and the fair girl in a noble apartment, at-
tended by a considerable number of English ladies and
gentlemen. ' My lord,' said the earl, ' I have invited
you hither to marry myself and this gentlewoman, to
whom I was betrothed about twenty days ago ; and I am
desirous that rather you than any other should perform
the office between us, that the world may know we are
married according to her majesty* 8 laws.* *What you
require from me,* replied the bishop, * is a matter of great
importance ; and you must first permit me to confer with
the gentlewoman herself ;' and with this he took Mabel
aside, and demanded of her whether she had plichted her
troHh to the earl. To this she answered that she nad done
BO twenty days before, and that she had received from him
a gold chain, worth a hundred pounds, as a token. To
the question whether she had come away voluntarily
from Tnrvey, she replied that she had done so of her
own free consent ; and finally, when asked whether she
was resolved to take the earl to her husband, she
answered : * My lord, you see in what case I am, how I
came hither with mine own consent, and have already
promised the earl to be his wife. I beseech you, there-
fore, for my credit's sake, to perfect the marriage between
us ; the sooner the better, for my honour's sake.' Satisfied
with the examination, the bishop remarked that it barely
remained for him to perfect ' the knot that themselves had
already knytt ;' and he instantly solemnized the mar-
riage according to her majesty's laws. The merry-
makings on this occasion lasted four or five days, and
I need not tell you that such revel was never before
witnessed in Drumcondra. At its conclusion, the earl
hastened back to the north withv his young bride, and
Mabel was now countess of green '^rone.

" But how am I to describe sir Henry Bagnal's conduct
when he was certified of his sister^s marriage ? He stormed
and vapoured like a very madman, accursing himself, thftt-

Va^NCISOAN MOKASTXEDES IN IBXLAND. SS

his father's blood and his own, which had been often spilled
in repressing this rebellious race, should now be mingled
with so traitorous a stock and kindred !' And not satisfied
with this, he vented his rage on Jones, his own country-
man, for celebrating the marriage. ' The bishop of Meath,'
said he, ' participated in this villany ; and by such like
examples in men of his sort, God's word is greatly slandered,
and many men in this kingdom, who, I think, would otherwise
willingly embrace the truth, are brought into detestation of
the gospel !' But he made a graver charge against him ;
for he asserted, as I have already told you, that Mabel's
nuptials were solemnized while the earl's wife was still
alive, and that he, the bishop, was aware of the impediment.
Burghley, on receiving this intelligence, wrote by the
queen's orders, commanding Jones to account for his con-
duct ; and the poor man, frightened out of his wits, replied
* that he never was cognizant of any such ** barr ;" and that
if he had had an inkling of it, he would not have done what
he did, not even for the marahaVa yearly revenue,'' Thos
was the unfortunate bishop involved in a very perplexing
embroilment ; and what was still more ludicrous, a councU
of cabinet ministers bent all their energies td discover the
truth or falsehood of the allegation against Tyrone. As for
him, he satisfied deputy Fitzwilliams that the accusation
was grounded on an intimacy which he had formed, in the
days of his hot youth, with the daughter of sir Brian
MThelim, from whom he was separated by order of the
Church, long before he married his late wife, the countess
Judith, daughter of O'Donnell. The sentence invalidating
the former connexion, on account of a diriment impedi-
ment, was duly registered by the officials of Armagh cathe-
dral ; who, when examined by the deputy, produced the
instrument signed and sealed, and furthermore declared,
that, by reason of said impediment, the Church never could
have sanctioned the sacramental union of the parties. Thus
was the earl cleared of the charge which sir Henry made
on such loose information — a charge, indeed, which, to use
Tyrone's words, * was meant to discredit him, and' to undo
his wedded wife.' Bagnal was utterly discomfited in his
attempt to disgrace his own sister; and Burghley, the
queen's favourite minister, pronounced that Tyrone had
acted honourably in the transaction, when the latter wrote,
that ' if he had not been thoroughly cleared from the gentle-

S4 TEB BISK AND VALL OV THX

woman whom the marshal would now thrust upon him, bo
would not for any worldly goods have stained his credit and
conscience by taking a second wife.' I have now told yoa
all that I know of Tyrone's marriage with Mabel Bagnal ;
but I should not omit mentioning that she became a Catho-
lic, and hved to witness many a glorious victory wrested
from the soldiers of her own race by her gallant husband.
As for sir Henry, his hatred of Tyrone grew more deadly
as years sped onwards ; so much so, that he never could m
induced to pay the dowry which he held in trust for Mab^
She died in 1596 ; and two and a-half years afterwards her
widowed lord and brother, at the head of their respective
armies, confronted each other on the field of the Yellow
Ford. Towards the close of that memorable action, Hugh^
earl of Tyrone — or, to speak more correctly, the O'Neill —
leading a squadron of horse, pricked forward in the hope of
encountering his brother-in-law ; but they were not destined
to meet. In the confusion of the bloody rout, the marshal
was in the act of raising his beaver, when a bullet pierced
his brain ; and thus deprived O'Neill of an opportunity of
avenging with his own good sword the injuries and insults
which long lay rankling in his heart. Happily for Mabd,
she did not live to witness that day of fearful retribution I

*' Now let me hear how you have dealt with the memo-
randa I gave you of our Drogheda monastery."

*' Would that the details were more copious," replied
father Purcell ; * * but, such as they are, they will perpetuate
the memory of that house.'' And he then read :

*' The Franciscan convent of Drogheda was founded by
the Plunkets, barons of Louth, in 1240, and not, as some
have asserted^ by the Darcys of Flatten ; for the progenitor
of the latter family did not come to Ireland till 1323, whea
he was appointed lord justice by Edward IJ. The site of
this venerable editice, in the northern division of the town,
and diocese of Armagh, was extremely beautiful, being
within the walls, and close to the quay where ships receive
and discharge their cargoes. The land belonging to this
convent extended, on the south, from the river's Drink to
a street on the declivity of the hill leading to St. Laurence-
street, and from a street on the west, near the quay, to the
city wall on the east. The ground bestowed on our convent
outside the walls, comprised a spacious garden and orchard
east of the city ; and oar friars had a private gate which

FRANCnrSOAN H0KASTBBIE9 IN IBiELAin>. S6

gave them access to both places. As for the buildines,
they were very magnificeut ; and nothing could exceed the
beauty of the bell- tower, which was of cut stone, lofty, and
encrusted with marble. The church was very elegant,
having a choir capable of accommodating two hundred friars.
In the centre of the choir stood the monument of the
Darcys of Flatten, surmounted by a marble bust of John,
the lord justice, who was one of our special benefactors,
and whose posterity were a]l buried within the same pre*
cincts. The fact of this monument having been one of the
most conspicuous objects in the church, led many to sup-

rse that the Darcys were founders of the convent ; but, as
have already said, the Plunkets are entitled to that
honour, although the Darcys frequently repaired the sacred
edifice, and particularly the eastern window of the church,
which was set in the city wall.

* * Early in the reign of queen Elizabeth, the Franciscans
were violently extruded from their venerable convent^
which was then leased to Gerald Aylmer, of Dollardstown,
who, in 1612, sold the buildings, together with their appur-
tenances, to one Moses Hill, a mere adventurer, who came
to Ireland a beggarman, and enriched himself with the
plunder of many an honest man's homestead. This Hill
was an implacable persecutor ol the Catholics, and an ever-
willing instrument in carrying out the detestable policy of
king James I. Intent upon his own aggrandizement, he
spared no effort to add to nis ill -got fortunes ; and no sooner
did a convent fall into his hands, than he began to remodel
the entire structure, so as to accommodato it to the require-
ments of shopkeepers and others, from whom he exacted
exorbitant rents. Father Baltassar Delahoyde, an aged
ecclesiastic, and native of Drogheda, who for many years
was vicar-general of the diocese of Armagh, informed me
that he was an ocular witness of HilFs sacrilegious van-
dalism, and endeavours to derive an income from the
tenants to whom he let the cloisters and infirmary of the
convent, which stood right upon the river's briuK ; but^
strange to relate, the shopkeepers who settled there, in-
8tea<l of becoming rich, grew poor, and had to give up their
holdings ; thus bringing on themseWes the curse pronounced
upon those who turn the house of God into a place of
chaffering and profane traffic

''Seeing that this speculation didnot prosper, Hill resolyed

36 THE RISE AND TALL 07 THE

to pnll down the whole edifice, and sell the cut stones of
which it was built ; but, as he cottld not set any of the
townspeople to carry out his wishes, he em^oyed a number
of strangers, at very high wages, to do his bidding. They
commenced at the bell-tower, which, as I have already
said, was a very beautiful object ; but the first stone that
was disturbed fell within a few inches of one of the masons,
which so terrified his fellows, that they were all scared
away, and refused to continue the work of demolition. A
second attempt to destroy the bell-tower was equally un-
successful ; but, in the meanwhile. Hill had pulled down the
infirmary and the guest-house, with a view, as I have heard,
of erecting on their site a mansion for sir Arthur Chiches-
ter, who was then lord deputy, in 1614. Chichester
approved the project, for he liked the locality ; but bein^
suddenly recalled to England, and replaced by Jones, the
king's archbishop of Dublin, the undertaking was aban-
doned, and Hill lost much money in laying the foundation
of an edifice which was never completed. Thus, by the
manifest interposition of heaven, the bell-tower and eastern
window of our once splendid convent were saved from
destruction, while the rest of the sacred edifice was up-
rooted from the very foundations. Nor did it fare w^
with Hill, the author of all this vandalic sacrilege ; for,
when I visited Drogheda, in 1615, his wife was suffering
from paralysis, and he himself was abhorred by the whole
population. To us Franciscans he was another Heliodorua,
desecrating our holy places, persecuting the members of
our brotherhood, and laying sacrilegious nands on Uie con-
secrated utensils of the sanctuary. So perished the ancient
convent of Drogheda.

'*At present (in 1617), however, notwithstanding the
despotism of the deputy, Oliver St. John, we have in that
city a community of four friars, who live in a house which
they rent, and in which they have erected an altar, pulpit,
and confessionals. The secular priests have this house in
common with our friars, and they all labour to preserve the
faith among the people. As for the Franciscans, they live
strictly according to their rule, wearing the habit in their
conventual church, reciting the office in choir, and regret-
ting heartily that they are obliged to exchange the garb of
their holy founder for secular apparel when going abroact
into the streets.

FRANCISCAN MONASTERIES IN IRELAND. 3?

**A few incidents connected with this little convent —
alas, how unlike the stately monastery founded by the
Plankets, on the bank of the historic Boyne!— which
occurred under my own eyes, deserve to be recorded to
the honour of our friars, and for the edification of future
ages.

*' It was in the year 1610 that father Maurice Ultan,
O'Dunlevy, hired the house for our four friars in Drogheda ;
and soon skfterwards, when it was noised abroad that the
little community possessed some silver utensils for the
altar, sir Arthur Chichester, then lord deputy, instructed
his myrmidons to watch their opportunity and make a raid
upon the house, in order to carry off the plate. The priest
had hardly left the altar, when the ruffians forced their
way into the chapel, and made off with the vestments,
ehidice, and everything else that they considered valuable.
As for the friars, they escaped by secret passages known
only to themselves ; for Chichester's hirelings were too intent
on plunder to think of arresting ihem. On another occa-
sion, father Francis Helan, an aged man, was seized at the
foot of the altar, and dragged into the streets, where the
women of Drogheda assailed his captors with a shower of
stones. The soldiers would willinglj'^ have released their
prisoner to save themselves ; but the old man, desirous of
flcreening the people from Chichester's vengeance, surren-
dered himself voluntarily ; and being conducted to Dublin,
was arraigned in his habit before Adam Loftus, the chan-
cellor. Ihe officer of the escort interposed on behalf of
father Helan, and generously represented that he had sur-
rendered voluntarily ; staling, at the same time, that he,
the officer, had never been in so great peril of his life, as
from the Drogheda women and their improvised artillery.
The chancellor and his confrere? laughed heartily on hear-
ing this, but the old4>riest was flung into prison, where he
hiKl to dree six weary months. Ludicrous as the occur- -
renoe was, it exacerbated the hostility of the authorities
against the good i)eople of Drogheda. It would be tedious
to narrate uie stratagems to which the government had
recourse for the total destruction of priests, seminarists,
and friars in Ireland, ever since James I. ascended the
throne. The seaports were vigilantly wat«hed by ruffians
hired to arrest those whom they supposed to be priests or
•tudents going abroad for education * and no one was allowed

rv^

S8 THB B1SX AND TALL OT THV

to come or go without the scrntiny of those wretches.
I myself was present on the quay of Drogheda in 1614^
when a young priest, a native of Cork, who had just then
returned from Flanders, was arrested on suspicion ; but as
he was in secular apparel, he contrived to get ofi^ owing
principally to the interference of some bystanders, who
said he was a merchant from Cork, of which he was a
native. I remember, too, when the lodging of. Eugene
Mathews, archbishop of Ihiblin, was entered by a posse of
those vile miscreants in quest of his grace, who escaped
through a window^ and hid himself on the roof of a neigh-
bouring house. I was in the metropolis when that event
occurred ; and seeing the house in which I lodged surround-
ed bv a vast crowd, I rushed into the street, and being in
secular apparel, mingled with the throng, and thus forta-
nately eluaed my pursuers.

*<Far more memorable was the case of John Stuart, a
native of Scotland, and lay-brother of our little community
in Drogheda. This excellent man was arrested near Dublin,
and committed to the prison of that city, where he was
detained for some months. He was subsequently sent to
England, and brought before the king, who, as was his
wont on all such occasions, waxed theological, and began
to dispute with him about the dogmata of the Church.
The poor friar was an illiterate man, but yet he was able
enough to expose the sophistry of the royal logic, which
was uways employed to justify the most absurd paradoxes
^-one day proving the unlawfulness of smoking tobacco,
and when tired of that thesis, strenuously maintaining the
lenity of smoking witches to death. When argument
failed, the king hi^ recourse to bribes, for he was very
anxious to make a proselyte of a man who bore his own
name ; but findios that this sort of persuasion was of no
avail, he ordered him to be imprisoned in the tower of Lon-
don, from which he was liberated after a long detention.
Brother Stuart did good seryice to our community here in
Louvain, and returned to Ireland, where his zeal and
fidelity shall not be forgotten, if these poor pages can serve
to perpetuate his memory.

"I find," continued the provincial, ''that I have not
given you my memoranda of the Franciscan house of Dun-
dalk ; and as the volume would be imperfect if it lacked a
notice of that convent^ I wiM <ipw narrate the little that I

\

i

r&AsciacAS kovashkbxes m ibeland. 39

have gleaned of its vicissitudes. It was founded in the
thirteenth century, by John de Verdon, and was one of the
first that was destroyed, when Henry VIII. decreed the
dissolution of the religious communities. When I visited
it, in 1616, nothing remained of the church except the
beU-tower, and even that was sadly dilapidated. The
entire of the sacred edifice, with its appurtenances, that is
to say, about three or four acres of meadow-land, was held
by John Brandon, a most respectable denizen of Dundalk,
whose grandfather got a lease of the premises in the reign
of king Henry. The said John waited on me when I was
examining the ruin — alas, not so much the martyr of time
as of man's wrath — and told me that he scrupled hold-
ing possession of the place without the consent of the
friars. I, therefore, for the security of his conscience, laid
the whole matter before John Cassel, a native of Dundalk,
and syndic of the convent, who, by authority from Rome,
allowed him to retain the dilapidated walls and the foresaid
acres of land, on the following conditions : First, that he
would renounce all right to possession whfenever the Fran-
ciscans might claim it from hiuL Secondly, that he should
not sell or alienate any portion of the premises, or their ap-
purtenances, without consent of our brotherhood. Thirdly,
that he should not suffer any one to do further injury to the
place, but save It from decay, and pledge himself not to let
any portion of the land to another. Fourthly, that he
would give something annually, by way of alms, to our
friars, out of the rents which he received from the land.
Brandon acreed to these conditions, and indeed he has been
faithful to his word. Such conduct deserves to be recorded ;
and who knows but this poor testimony to true worth may
one day meet the eyes of some of his posterity l**

40 THJB RISE AND l^ALL OV THB

CHAPTER IV.

THK MONASTEBY AT MULTIFKRNAN.

Origin of tbe Name— Foundation of the Monastery— The Delamera—
T^e Nugents of Delvin and Donore— The Monastery plundered and
bamt by the Englitih— The Friars imprisoned in the Castle of fialU-
more— -Escape of Father Mooney — Cruelties perpetrated on the Pri-
•oners — Richard Brady, Bishop of KUmore— Ke-establishment of the
Friars in Mnltifenuin— Notice of distingoished Members of the
Community.

** It will afford me gteai pleasure,*' said father Mooney to
his colleague, " to give you an ample account of the vicia-
situdes of our once noble convent of Multifeman; for,
indeed, of all our Irish houses, there is not one, that, of
Donegal excepted, with whose history I am better ac-
quainted. And how could it be otherwise? It was in
Multifeman I made my novitiate, and 'twas there I hop^
to have made my religious profession, till ^*

"But, father," interrupted Purcell, ''I thought you
commenced your monastic life in the convent of Donegal "

"No, dear friend; 'twas in Donegal I renounced the
world, abandoning sword and matchlock ; and no sooner
did I avow my intention of devoting myself to the service
of God and St. Francis, than our good provincial sent me
to Multifeman, to enter on my novitiate. I was then in
my twenty-fourth year, strong and active, inured to hard-
ships and privations, having served some time under the
banners of O'Neill and CrDonnell, in their campaigns
against Elizabeth's choicest generals. I, too, had my share
of martial glory ; for I may say, without any idle self -lau-
dation, that I bore myself as it became a true soldier on
many a battlefield, from Clontibret to the Yellow Ford,
where the clans of Tyrone and Tirconuell routed the Eng-
lish army under marshal Bagnal. Beminiscences suoh as
these may not beseem a poor disciple of St. Francis, so
let me rather proceed to satisfy your inquiries concerning
the ris>e and fall of the monastery of Multifeman. "

•* I need hardly observe that that venerable house, now,
alas, a charred and mouldering mass of ruins, stands hard
by the river Gain, in the county of Westmeath. Our
annals, as well as the traditions of the locidity, date its
erection in the year 1306, when William Delamer, whoso
ancestor, Hci-oer^ came to Ireland in the days of Henry XL,

FRANCISCAN UONASTSRIES IN UtBLAND.. 41

built the church and convent to the honour of God, and
his chosen patron, St. Francis. As to the meaning of the
word Multifernan, it may not be amiss to inform you, that
it signities Fearnan's Mill; for it appears that an Irish
family of that name owned the territory, and had a mill
on the Gain, long before the Delamers— or, as they were
subsequently styled, in the Irish' vernacular, Mac Herberts
— possessed a single rood in the county of Westmeath.
The appellation * Montis Femandi,* given to the monastery
and village, is doubtless a euphonious latinizing of the

Erimitive Celtic word, and must have been invented by the
rst guardian of the convent, in his correspondence with
the general of our order in Italy.

* * The site which Delamer selected for this monastery, was
admirably suited to the contemplative life of its inmates ; ^
for it was in low ground, at a considerable distance from the
village, away from freouented thoroughfares, and in the
vicinity of the lake of Derreghvera, through which the
sweet Inny flows to join the Shannon. In fact, there is ^
only one road by which the place can be approached — the
great highway leading from Mullingar to Longford. The<
monastery itself was very spacious, capable of affording
accommodation to a large number of friai:s, having afi
requisite appurtenances, such as cloisters, refectory, dor-
mitorv, cuest-house, library, and chapter-room. The
churCn, which is still surmounted by a graceful belfry, was
oi exquisite architecture, and amply furnished with all
requirements for its sacred purposes. The groined ceilings,
panelled choir, and richly-carved altars, bore ample testi-
mony to the devotion of the lordly Delamer and his pos-
terity, who for many centuries were our unfailing bene-
factors ; and, indeed, I may justly style them such, for not
satisfied with building the church and convent, they en*-
dowed the latter with many acres of rich land, and em-
powered our friars to erect mills and weirs on the Gain.
Thus did the Delamers provide for the wants of the com-
munity ; and, in return for such bountiful munificence, the
friars of Multifeman prayed for the souls of their illustrious
patrons, preserved their tombs from decay, and took special
care to guard against all accident the beautiful south-
eastern window of the church, once all ablaze with their
armorial cognizance.

^^In progress of time, however, the lands which Delasiar

42 THI BISB AXt WALL OV THX '

won hy the sword, lapsed to the no less illnstrfons family
of the'Nugenta, barons of Delvio, who, like their predecea-
Bon, prov^ed themsel^ee constant benefactors and patrons
of the friars of Multifeman. How many instances conld I
give you of the fostering protection which the Nugents
bestowed on that convent I At the time when Henry vIIL
decreed the dissolution of the Irish monasteries — especially
those in the English Pale — Multifeman, withaU its appur-
tenances, was granted to Edward Field, Patrick Clynch,
and Philip Penteney, at a fine of eighty pounds, and the
annual rent of four shillings Irish. Yet, notwithstanding
this sacrilegious alienation of our venerable house, the
friars were not disturbed ; for, owing to the interposition of
tiie barons of Delvin, they still continued to retain posses-
sion of the church and monastery. In fact, the Kugents
were so devoted to our order, that they always contrived to
purchase the monasteiy and church from the grantees, as
they were styled ; who cared far more for a round sum of
money than they did for the dispersion of a poor commu-
nity, or the few acres which they cultivated. The fidelity
of the Nugents to the English government in the reign of
Elizabeth, enabled them to extend protection to the in-
mates of Multifeman ; and although the monastery was
frequently garrisoned by English troops, during the war
between O'Neill and that queen, it sustained little or no
injury from such visitors. Seven years before Elizabeth's
decease, James Nugent of Donore died, seised in fee of the
manor of Multifeman ; and in the succeeding reign, his
son Richard purchased the monastenr from alderman Jans
of Dublin, to whom it was granted by James the First.
This Richard, who died in 1615, and was buried in the
ancestral tomb in Multifeman, was a great benefactor of
our order ; for, not satisfied with repairing the church and
monastery, he bestowed additional grants of land, and
several costly pieces of altar-plate, on our community.
His son Andrew, who succeeded him, was a worthy repre*
sentative of a sire whose memory shall never perish, if my
poor words can transmit it to posterity.

''Let me now relate to you what I myself witnessed
during my novitiate in Multifeman. In October, 1601, a
strong detachment of English soldiers, commanded by
Francis Shane, was sent from Dublin by Charles Blounf,-
the then deputy^ with instructions to pillage the monastery,

7RAKCISCAK HONASTESUSS OF IRELAKD. 43

and seise the friars. On their march, and within bowsholt
of the convent, they arrested Kichard Brady, bishop of Kil-
more, a member of our order ; Father John Gray, the
provincial ; Father James Hayn; and Bernard Moriarty
dean of Ardagh. On entering the convent, they seized
father Nehemias Gray, the guardian, together with five or
six other members of the brotherhood ; it was tiien dark
niffht, and we were returning from the church to our cells,
when we found ourselves in the hands of the soldiers. Tn
the confusion, some of the friars escaped out of tiie convent,
and sought refuge in the neighbouring woods. As for the
bishop, Shane sent him and some others under escort to the
castle of Ballimore on Loughshodie, some twelve miles
south-west of Mullingar ; wmle I, the guardian, and a few
other members of the community, were detained prisoners
in the monastery. Thus were we kept for two days.
Shane, indeed, hoped to light on some rich treasure in our
poor house, but he was disappointied ; for, after searching
the entire edifice, he could find nothing save a goodly store
of provisions, which was sent to the monastery by the
nobility and centi^, who were wont to come thither on the
feast of St. Francis, then nigh at hand. This was an old
usage in that place, as there were no inns in the neighbour-
hood. In the meantime, while the soldiers were making
merry on the good cheer, never intended for them, 1 con-
trived to effect the escape of the guardian and some others ;
and, indeed, I too might have got off, had I so willed it»
but as it was within two days of the time appointed for
making my religious profession, I preferred remaining in
custody, knowing right well that Shane would send me to
the castle on Loughshodie, where the provincial was con-
fined. On the expiration of the second day, Shane ordered
me and a lay-brother out of the convent, and setting us on
horses, sent us prisoners to Ballimore. Alas, I never will
foi^get the horrors of that day ; for we had gone hardly'a
mile when Shane came galloping up, and commanding us to
halt, directed our attention to a mass of fire and smoke
clearly visible in the distance, exclaiming at the same time,
with fiendish malevolence : 'Vile poltroons ! see how I
have burnt your monastery to the ground.' Thus, on the
3rd of October, 1601, did that inhuman monster give our
venerable house of Multifeman to the fiames.

** With a heavy heart we held on our way to the castle

44 THE RISE AND VAJJj OV THE

•

of Ballimore ; and as we rode along, Shane, who did noi
venture to do me personal harm, waxing jocose, began to
banter me about the habit I wore. * You,' said he, *have
been a soldier, and you ought to be ashamed of that; papistic
dress. Cast it off; I don't ask you to abjure your po{)ery ;
but come and take service imder our queen, and you may
be certain that you will not be forgotten when Blount^ our
puissant deputy, has crushed O'Neill and O'DonneU. The
broad lands of those base traitors shall soon be given to her
majesty's true lieges ; and, assuredly, fingers like yours
were better employed l^th sword or matcmock than f urn.*
bling a rosary.'

" Little did I heed the ribaldry of the profane soldier ;
and weary as was the road to the castle of Ballimore, it
seemed light and pleasant when I reflected that it led to
the crowning of my most cherished aspirations. At length
we reached our journey's end, and I had the happiness of
finding myself face to face with the bishop of Kilmore, the
guardian of Multifeman, father Bernard Moriarty, and some
other members of our community. They all were astonished
at seeing me, for they knew that I could have escaped from
tiie convent had I wished to do so ; but when I explained
to them the motives which induced me to remain a prisoner
in Shane's hands, nothing could exceed the joy which each
of them evinced. * You know, dear father,' said I to the
provincial, * that the term of my novitiate expires to-day,
and that I desire nothing so much on this earth as to be
enrolled a poor and humble disciple of St. Francis. If,
therefore, you deem me worthy of such an honour, permit
me this instant to make my profession.'

** * What !' said the venerable bishop, from whose aged
eyes the tears streamed fast and hot, ' are you prepared to
renounce your liberty for the poor habit of our order ? do
you consent to forego the enjoyments of a secular career
for a life of penance and mortification ? You told us that
the man into whose power we have fallen has promised you
much, provided you would divest yourself of IJie habit, and
betake you to your old profession of arms. Ponder, there-
fore, what you should do, lest, perhaps, you might one day
repent your precipitancy.'

'* ' Most reverend father,' I replied, * nothing can shake
or alter my firm resolution. I have long yearned for this
day; and if it be not presumptuous in one unlettered

FBAirOISCAN MONikSTXRtBS IF IBXLAHB. 45

as I am to make the reflection, I would hmnbly snbmit
that all the calamities which have overtaken as of late
should be regarded as so many stumbling-blocks cast by
Satan across my path, to diveitme from the goal for which
I have been struggling.*

*** Enough, enough/ replied the bishop; 'your desire
shall be satisfied ; and may heaven help you on the rugged
road you have chosen !'

*'I then threw myself on my knees at the provincial's
feet, and in the dim liffht of the prison-chamber made my
profession, and was duly received into the order of St.
Francis. Never, never shall I forget the joy I felt on that
day ; never while I live shall the recollection of that hour
fade from my memory. Countless are the splendid functions
I have witnessed sincethen here in Louvain and in Brussels ;
but I doubt much if any of them all could equal the solemn
rite of my profession in that castle of Lou^hshodie.
Kealize it to your imagination, dear brother : picture to
yourself a young man, in the plenitude of his strength,
kneeling at the feet of an aged bishop and his provincial,
both captives for their loyalty to God and the faith of their
fathers ; and there, in tne gloom of that dungeon, pro-
nouncing with unfaltering tongue those irrevocable vows
which consecrated him the liege servant of God, and
doomed him to the persecution of mthless laws.

** The recollection of that crowning moment of my life
has made me digress. So let me now relate how it fared
with myself and fellow-captives soon after my profession,
y oung and vigorous as I was, it was only natural that I
should think of effecting my escape from the castle of
BsJlimore; and I accordingly took counsel with father
Bernard Moriarty, to whom I communicated the various

frojects which presented themselves to my mind. He and
were lodged in the same tower every night; and our
jailors, actia^ more from caprice than system, occasionally
secured us with a ponderous iron chain. It occurred to
me, then, that we should bide our time, and break prison
some night when our limbs were uashackled ; but on pro*
posing this idea to my fellow-sufferer, he would not enter-
tain it. I next bethought me that we might watoh our
opportunity when the soldiers were out exercising ; bolt
the gates against them, and hold the castle till such time
as either of the native princes^ O'Neill or O'Doxmell, then

46 THB BISX Aim FALL OV THE

in arms, would send fa*oops to our rescue. This expedient
seemed to me very feasible ; bat, after a careful scrutiny of the
premises, I discovered that we had not as much gunpowder
or food as would enable us to maintain ourselves in the
place longer than four days. Then again it occurred to me
that such a proceeding would necessarily be attended with
bloodshed ; and as my conscience rebuked me for entertain-
ing so hazardous a scheme, I resolved to abandon it. At
length I found a quantity of tow, of which the soldiers
nsed to make matches for their arquebuses and the falco-
nets mounted on the ramparts ; and I immediately set about
twistine it into a rope, by which I might, whenever a
favourable moment appeared, let myself down from the
window of the tower into the ditch of the castle, and thus
regain my liberty. It was idle to think that father
Moriarty would adopt my plan, and 1 therefore did not
impart it to him. At last the lons-wished-for night came ;
and commending my soul to God and St. Francis, I fas-
tened one end of the rope to an iron stanchion of the win-
dow, and gradually lowered myself till I was within ten or
twelve feet of the ditch. At this critical moment the strain
on the rope caused it to break, and I fell into the ditch,
receiving in my rapid descent some trifling bruises from
the proj^ecting wall. Fortunately for me the ditch was full
of water, which reached above my chest ; and still more
fortunately the ward on the castle-tower was quite un-
conscious of what was passing. Nevertheless, I had hardly
cleared the ditch when I saw the shadowy figures of the
soldiers running hither and thither in the Uttle camp out-
side the castle, with blazing torches in their hands, as if
alarmed by an unexpected onfall. There was no time to
be lost : so, nerving myself for the worst, I made what
haste I could ; and, although not very well acquainted with
the locality, I walked fully ten miles that night, till I
reached the house of a friend, who gave me shelter and
cordial welcome. Thus was God pleased to deliver me
from that stronghold of Ballimore.

** Almost immediately after my escape, Shane resolved to
send his remaining prisoners to Dublin castle, for he thought
that the Irish princes, O'Neill and O'Donnell, would
attempt their rescue. However, as the bishop was far
advanced in years, and very feeble, Shane iiUowed him to
take up his abode in the house of a Catholic noblemaD,

^RANCISCAK MONASTXRIBS IN IBKLAND. 47

living in the neiehbourhood, who pledged his honour that
the prelate would present himself to the English authorities
in Dublin at the cluse of winter. The bishop was faithful
to his engagement ; for he set out for the metropolis about
the end of March, and on his arrival was thrown into
prison, where he remained till the summer of 1602, when
nis friends efifected his enlargement by paying a heavy fine.

'* As to the other prisoners, among whom was my friend
father Bernard Moriarty, they were sent under a strong
escort to Dublin ; but no sooner had they reached the neigh-
bourhood of Multifeman, than they were met by Walter
Kugent, standard-bearer to the baron of Delvin, who com-
manded a company of thirty soldiers in the queen's pav.
This valiant young officer demanded the rmease of the
prisoners; but when that was refused, he and his men at-
tacked the escort, and eventually succeeded in liberatinff
the friars. Unfortunately, however, two other companies (S
the queen's troops, on hearing the musketry, came speedilv
to the scene of action, and overpowered Walter Nugent's
detachment, six of whom lost their lives in the skiraiish.
The friars were then sent on to the prison of Dublin castle.
As for my friend Moriarty, he received a gunshot wound,
which fractured both his Uughs ; and after lingering a short
time in intense agony in a dungeon, where they refused
him bed, medical attendance, or any other comfort, he
finally surrendered his pure soul to God, and was buried
in the cemetery of St. James, outside the city waU. Thus
terminated the career of this venerable priest, who, in my
opinion, deserves to be styled a martyr. He was pro-
foundly versed in civil and canon law, and distinguished
himself by his acquirements, when a mere striplmg, in
Spain. He was dean of Ardagh, archdeacon of Glonmac-
noise ; and when Matthew de Oviedo succeeded to the arch-
bishopric of Dublin, he appointed my hunented friend hia
vicar-general.

* 'Meanwhile the provincial and another priest remained in
custody, and I need hardly tell you that I spared no effort
to obtain their enlargement. My exertions were finally
crowned with success ; for, on representing the matter to
the princes O'Neill and MacManon, they willinely ex-
changed two English prisoners of war, then in theirnands,
for my two reverend confreres.

<*£lated by this favourable torn in our affidrs, laasembled

48 THE 1U8B AND FALL OF THl

as nuai^ of oar f riara as had sumved 6uch a sad aeries of
calamines, and exhorted them to join me in re-establiah-
ing ourselves in Multifeman. They one and all adopted
my views ; and owins to our untiring efforts, we contnvcid
to erect, before the festival of the Nativity, 1601, a small
dwelling-house within the ruins of our burnt monastery. In
the following year, however, father Nehemias Gray, oar
guardian, resolved to repair, as far as he could, the church
and the monastery ; and he therefore procured a large quan-
tity of timber from the barony of Garrvcastie, in order to
roof one of the chapels and a portion of the ancient dwell-
ing-house. The undertaking prospered beyond our expec-
tations ; but scarcely were the partial restorations com-
pleted^ when a body of -English troops, commanded by
Francis Rochf ort, came suddenly upon us, and mercilessly
burnt down every inch of the work on which we had ex-
pended so much toil. As for the friars, some saved them-
selves by flight, and others were carried ofif to Dublin,
where they were thrown into prison. The bishop of Kil-
more was among those whom Rochfort arrested on that
occasion ; but as he was decrepid, and unable to walk or
stand, they flung him into a brake of briars, and there
left him, as they thought, dead. Notwithstanding this
second demolition of our poor house, the friars returned to
Multifeman as soon as they were released from prison ; and
even now, despite unrelenting persecution, we have there
a community of eighteen, including lay-brothers, who
reside in cabins whi<m they raised within our ancient pre-
cincts.

*'Lest, however, their names or memories should be
forgotten, I would have you know that, of all our enemies,
none were more cruel than sir Dudley Loftus, sir Richard
Grear, Patrick Fox, high sheriff of Westmeath, and sir
Oliver Lambert, formerly president of OonnaughfL As for
Loftus, he came accompanied by the said Grear to Multi-
feman, and carried off five of our brethren to Dublin ;
where, after being detained in castody eighteen months,
they were ultimately released, on pledging themselves to
appear whenever it pleased the authorities to summon
them. This occurred, as well as I remember, in 1607. In
1613, Fox came stealthily on our poor friars, and arrested,
among others, father Bernard Gray, who, after a year's
confinement was suffered to seek refuge in Frv^ce^ where

VRASCJaCAlSt MONASTBRIES IN IRELAND. 49

he died of disease contracted in the dungeon of Dublin
castle. In the following year, sir Oliver Lambert came
with a company of soldiers to Multifernan, seized the
few friars he found there, and committed them prisoners
to the jail of MuUingar. Nevertheless, as I said before,
Multifernan has never lacked a community of Franciscans,
for whose maintenance we are mainly indebted to the
illustnons house of Nugent, and the unfailing charity of
the Catholics residing in the neighbourhood and through-
out Westmeath.

**But as these remimscenses of Multifernan would be
imperfect without some notice of the most distinguished
members of our order, whose society and friendship it was
my happiness to enjoy there, I will now furnish you with
a few particulars which I think deserve to be recorded.
Let me, therefore, begin with Richard Brady, bishop of
Kilmore, whose virtues and sufferings should never be
forgotten by the future historian of our calamitous times.

** That illuatrious individual sprang from the noble house
of his name, which for many an age ruled with princely
sway in Breffny-O'Reilly. At a very early pei;iod of his
life he distinguished himself ab a jurist, for indeed he was
profoundly versed in the canon and civil law. Family in-
fluence and talents such as his would, doubtless, have
raised him to eminence had he chosen a secular career ;
but, caring little for the fame or fortune which he might
have won so easily in the senate or in the forum, he re-
nounced the world, and took our poor habit in the convent
of Oavan. His piety, learning, and prudence, were the
theme of every tongue ; and although he never left Ireland
or sought for himself any dignity, the supreme pontiff pro-
moted him to the bishopric of Ardagh, on the 23rd of
January, 1576. Resigning that diocese, he was translated
to the see of Kilmore, and held the office of vice-primate
after the death of Raymond O'Gallagher, bishop of Deny,
who was slain by the English in 1601. It may not be
superfluous to inform you, that during the vacancy of the
see of Armagh, or the absence of its metropolitan, the office
of victf-primate has, according to immemorial custom, de-
volved on the senior suffragan of the province. Thus,
0*6allagher succeeded to that dignity when Edmund
MacGauran fell in an action fought by M'Guire, prince of
Fermanagh, against the troops commanded by Bingham,

50 THE AISE AJ3D FALL Or TUX

president of Oonnaught ; and when the bishop of Kilmore
departed this life, Cornelius O'Deveny, the martyred bishop
of Down and Connor, filled the vacant place. I have
ieemed it necessary to make these remarks lest sudh a
venerable usage should ever be forgotten. Now let me
resume my narrative of our bishop's life. He dwelt con-
stantly in Multifernan, and never left it except on the
business of his diocese, when he always preferred such
accommodation as he could find in some house of our order to
the comfoHs and hospitality which he might have received
from the Catholic nobility and gentry. During his resi-
dence among us, he invariably wore the habit, })artook oC
such fare as our poor refectory afforded, and never dined
apart from the common table of the friars, except when
strangers were entertained in the guest-house. His entire
retinue consisted of his confessor, diaplain, and two boys,
who attended him when saying Mass. . I had frequent
opportunities of witnessing the austerities he practised ; and
can vouch that Franciscan never lived who took greater
delight in obeying the rigid ordinances of our holy founder.
£ven when broken down by old age and infirmities, he
could not be induced to wear a coarse linen shirt ; and de-
spite all remonstrances of our friars, he rejected any Uttle
luxuries we could procure for him, graciously thanking
those who offered them, and saying, at the same time, that
he had chosen a life of mortification, and would die as he
had lived. He, as I have already told you, was arrested
three times by the English authorities, who, on two occa-
sions, set him at large on payment of a heavy fine ; but on
the last they tore the habit off his aged person, and left him
for dead in a thicket. Towards the close of his days he
resigned the see of Kilmore, and finally departed this life,
September, 1607. In compliance with his wishes, we in-
terred him in the usual burial-place of the friars, that is to
say, in the cloister, and right under the door leading to the
church.

** Another remarkable personage who entered our com-
munity of Mnltifeman about the time of the bishop's de-
cease, was Andrew Nugent, a member of the illustrious
house to whom we owe so much. This centleman was for
a long time anxious to take our poor habit ; but as he was
married, he could not be received till his wife died. On her
decease, however, he entered as a lay-brother ; and daring

niANOIBOAir UONASnERISS OF IRBULND. 51

tbe five or six years be survived, he was an exemplar of
every virtae that might be expected from a sincere follower
of St. Francis. Having completed his seventieth year, he
died in 1614^ and was buried with his brethren.

" A few of my old confreres are still living, after having
passed through the fiery ordeal of persecution. Among
thea is father James Hayn, who, when a very young man,
was sent by Gregory XIII. with a consecrated banner to
^ames Fitzmaurice, when he entered on that campaign in
which he laid down his life for his religion and country.
This reverend father, now in his ninetieth year, was among
those arrested by Shane at the first burning of Multifeman.
At a subsequent period, when Bochfort mvaded our pre-
cincts, father Hayn received three severe wounds, and was
conmiitted to a dark cell in the castle of Dublin. Owing to
the humanity of a feUow-prisoner, he recovered, and was
finally set at large. He is now livine at Multifeman.
Father John Gray, whom I mentioned before, was again
arrested in 1608, together with the baron of Delvin, on a
charge of having aided the flight of the princes O'Neill and
O'Donnell. As soon, however, as the baron cleared himself
of complicity in that transaction, father Gray was dismissed,
and suffered to pass the remainder of his days in the neigh-
bourhood of Multifeman.

** Two others are still in prison, namely, father Charles
Orassau and father Didacus Conry, who were arrested by
Daniel, the king's archbishop of Tuam, in 1617) when
questing alms for their brethren of Multifeman. I have
BOW detuled to you all that I know of that venerable
monastery, where persecution raged against us, and where
our brethren comported themselves with a heroic fidelity
that should never be forgotten. Let me add that father
Mwuke Ultan is at present guardian of the community."

52 TEOE BZSS AND FAIL 07 THB

CHAPTER V.

MONASTERIES OF KILCREA AND TIMOLEAGUX.

Church and Monastery of Eilcrea— Its beautiful Site and Architecture —
The Tomb of MacCarthy of Muskerry— The Church and Monastery
plundered in 1584— Again in 1599— Fathers MacCarthy and O'Sulilvan
—Church and Monastery of Timoleague— Plundered and damaged by
English Soldiers, who are cut to pieces by O'Sulilvan, Prince of Bear —
Lyons, Protestant Bishop of Cork— Dilapidates Timoleague— Perse-
cutes the Catholics.

" None of our Munster monasteries,*' resumed the provin-
cial, *' were more famous than those of Kilcrea and Timo-
league ; and having made a pilgrimage to both some years
ago, I took good care to collect every particular relating to
their foundation and fall. Centuries hence, the notices I now
detail to you may help to throw light on a dark and tem-
pestuous period of our history; and I would fain per-
suade myself, should it please God to restore those
sanctuaries to their rightful owners, that you and I shall
not be forgotten when their altars have been re-erected,
and matin and vesper song resounds as of old, in choir,
chancel, and cloister, now, alas, desecrated by the im-
pious."

" The memorabiHa you are giving me," ot)served father
Pnrcell, **make a goodly volume ; and who knows but it
may yet fall into the hands of some one who will turn it to
account, and make future generations familiar with the
vicissitudes of our venerable houses."

"Doubtless," replied the provincial ; **and you may be
assured that a time will come — be the fate of our houses
what it may — when the historian and antiquarian will
thank us for having saved even fragments of our monastio
records from oblivion. I would fain jtersuade myself that
the Irish Franciscan monasteries will yet revert to the
uses for which they were founded ; but even though that
wish never may be gratified, and those venerable piles
should totter into shapeless ruin, rank weeds growing out
of their altars, mournful ivy clothing their mulhons, gables,
corbels, and bell-towers ; no tenant in their chancels^
cloisters, or choirs, save the skulking wolf and the screech-
ing owl — even so, you and I shall not have laboured in
vam ; for the volume we leave behind ua will tell genera-

TBAKGSStiAir MONASTSRIBS IN IRELAND. 53

tions yet to come what those monasteries were in the days
of their splendour ; what pious manificence founded them ;
what saints, sages, and warriors lie buried in their vaults ;
and, alas that 1 should have lived to witness it, what un-
!»aralleled sacrilege desecrated their shrines, and drove
iheir pious inmates houseless and homeless on the world.
You and I have reason to be thankful for the hospitality
we have received in a foreign clime; and, indeed, we would
be ingrates if we omitted to record that Albert and Isa-
bella provided shelter for Irish friars, when king James, the
degenerate son of a truly Catholic mother— true even to the
death — banned and persecuted them as though they were
the opprobrium of mankind.

'* I will now relate to you all that I have learnt concern-
ing the monasteries of Kilcrea and Timoleague, and let me
commence with the former. Of all the Irish princes, none
ruled with kinglier sway than did the MacCarthys, lords
of Muskerry. Their martial prowess was famed in the
BODgs of bards, their lineage was traced to progenitors who
sailed with Milesius from Spain to Ireland, and their strong
castles studded the banks of the Bandon from Knocknana-
von to Kinsale. Nor were they less famed for their piely
and devotedness to our holy founder, St. Francis, as Kil-
crea, even in its ruius, will testify to future ages. The
founder of that venerable house was Gormac MacOarthy,
lord of Muskerry, who erected it, under the invocation of
St. Brigid, for Franciscans, A.D. 1465. The site selected
for the monastery was very beautiful, away from the tumult
of the world, and close to the sweet river Bride. The church
was admirably constructed of the finest materials, and
nothing could excel the exquisite workmanship of the nave
and choir, from which springs a graceful bell-tower of con-
siderable height. Kich marbles, finely-turned windows,
and a beautiful arcade forming one side of a chapel, still
show that Gormac, lord of Muskerry, was a man gifted
with a high appreciation of art, and, as I have already said,
with true devotedness to our order. In the chancel, and
close to the grand altar, he caused a tomb to be constructed
for himself, and he was interred there in 1495, having been
slain by his own brother and nephews. The same' tomb
contains the mortal remains of many of his race, all of
whom were distinguished for their martial prowess, but
none more so thiui hia son Gormac, who defeated tbo

»-^c

54 THK BUS AND YALL OF TOM

Geraldines in the celebrated battle fought near the abb^
of Moorue. The inseriptiMi on the foonder^s tomb is worth
preaenring, and runs thus — * Hie JaceJt Carmac^ FUius
Thad^ F. Cormae, F. DermUii nutgni MctcCarihy DomitmB
de Mttsgraige, etc iatiug conventus primus fundator, a.Dl
1495.' The Barrets and many other noble families selected
Kilcrea as their burial-place, and their tombe are still there^
for they spared no effort to presenre the sacred edifice from
the ravages of the English txoops during the wars with the
Geraldines and the Ulster princes. The entire of the
buildings, including the monastery, which is of no consi-
derable magnitude, is to this day in very good condition,
and lacks nothing bst friars, who are not allowed to inhabit
their ancient abode, since Dermot MacCarthy, who basely
abjured the religion of his glorious progenitors, had a grant
of the place from sir Arthur Chichester, lord deputy, on
condition that be would not suffer the Franciscans to return,
or let his lands to any but Protestants. Nevertheless^
some of our friars live among the people in the neighbour-
hood, and are supported by the bounty of the Barrets and
others, who, as I have already said, are very anxious to
preserve the monastery and its church from dilapidation.
Whilst I was at Kilcrea, the particulars I am now about to
give you were related to me by truistworthy persons, and I
am sure that yon will think them worth recording.

<* In 1584 — the year after O'Moriarty had compassed the
cruel murder of the great earl of Desmond— a company oC
English soldiers, marauding through the distriet, entered
the monastery and church of Kilcrea, intent on plunder.
Those miscreants, unawed by the sanctity of the {^ace,
demolished the statues and paintings, and laid their saeri'
legious hands on the sacred utenaSs. At that time, the
church possessed a beautiful representation of the cruci-
fixion,— a rare work of art, indeed ; for at each extremity of
the cross there was a beautiful n>edallion of the evangelists,
exquisitely wrought in ^old and silver. Stimulated by a
desire to seize the precious metal, the soldiers began to
quarrel among themselves, and in this brawl they turned
their swords against each other's breasts, till two of them
fell mortally wounded, one of them dying that very nieht,
and the other, the next morning. The gold and silver
glutted the impious greed of the survivors, and that aobU
work of art was lost to the convent for ever.

TBAKCISCAN HONASTERIKS IN IRELAIO). 55

** Tn 1599, when the Ford depnty Essex marched against
the remnant of the Geraldines, Kilcrea was again invaded
by English soldiers, who scared away the friars, and killed
father Mathew 0*Leya, at the very moment he was en-
deavouring to effect his escape by fording the Bride. He
was a man remarkable for the holiness of his life, and had
then entered on his sixty-seventh year.

**Nor should I omit mentioning a very remarkable
member of this convent, whose history deserves special
notice. The person to whom I allude was Felix MacCarthy,
who, during the Geraldine war, distinguished himself by
his charity and hospitality to all, friends as well as foes.
One day, having an altercation with his brother, Felix
allowed himself to be carried away by passion, and, in hiA
fury, stabbed the unfortunate youth to death. Over-
whelmed with remorse, he resolved to renounce the world ;
and bavins obtained a dispensation from the irregulariti/y
he earnestly begged, and finally received, the habit of oui
order, thenceforth devoting himself entirely to the service
of God. He subsequently was ordained priest, and living
to a great old age, all the nerves of his fingers, those of the
index and thumb of either hand excepted, became so para-
lyzed, that he could make no use of them. His brethren of
Kilcrea, however, and indeed every one else, regarded this
as a singular manifestation of God's mercy, since ne allowed
this devout penitent the use of the four fingers which are
employed at the holy sacrifice of the Mass.

** Another highly -gifted member of the brotherhood of
Kilcrea, was father Thaddeus O'Sullivan, whose powers
as a preacher won him fame in every region of Ireland.
During the terrible commotions attending the wars of the
great earl of Desmond, this venerable priest was wont to
follow the Irish troops into the woods, where great licen-
tiousness prevailed ; and, indeed, his eloquent exhortations
not only kept alive the faith in the souls of those who heard
him, but prevented many a bloody deed in those disastrous
times. During one of his charitable missions he fell sick
and died,' and the people who loved him so well would fain
convey his corse to the monastery of Kilcrea. This, how-
ever, was a dangerous undertaking ; for at that time all
Munster waa garrisoned by the English troops, and the
eople ran risk of death if they appeared abroad in day-
ight. At length some who were thoroughly acquainted

56 THE RISE AND VALL OF THB

Vfith. the by-roads resolved to place the remains on a home,
and set out after nightfall for the monastery ; but Icsii^
their way in the darkness, they were about to retrace their
steps, when one of the party said, Let us leave the horse
to himself, and he will certainly cany his burden to its des-
tination.' Adopting this suggestion, they followed the
horse all that night, and next morning they found them-
selves within the precincts of the monastery, where the
remains of father O'SuUivan were interred in tne cloister at
the door of the chapter-room, December, 1597. This
venerable father of our monastery of Kilcrea had very
many escapes from the English during the Munster wars ;
and if his memory required any further commendation,
'twould sui&ce to state, that he was the bosom friend of
MacCraghe, bishop of Cork, who consulted him on all
matters of importance, and was always guided by his
counsels. I have nothing further to add to this brief
a:s:ount of that venerable monastery ; so let us uov talk
of Timoleague.

*' That village is situated in the barony of Barryroe, in the
county of Cork, and close to a little harbour formerly much
frequented by Spaniards, who carried on a considerable
trade with ike Irish, taking in exchange for their rich
wines, hides, fish, wool, linen cloth, skins of squirrels, and
other native products. I have not ascertained exactly b^
whom the convent was founded, for some assert that it
was erected by William Barry, while others maintain, and
perhap with good reason, that we are indebted for it to
the pious munificence of Daniel MacOarthy, prince of
Oarbery. Be that as it may, there can be little doubt
that the actual convent was built about the year 1320, on
the site of an ancient house once inhabited by St. MoloHKa,
from whom the surrounding district takes its name. The
church was, indeed, a splendid edifice ; having a spacious
choir, aisle, lateral wing, and magnificent l^U-tower — a
remarkable feature in aU our Irish churches — rising to a
height of nigh seventy feet. The cloister was very beauti-
ful ; square, richly arcaded, and covered with a platf orm,
on which there was a suite of apartments, comprising chap-
ter-room, refectory, and the guardian's ample cluimber.
Along with these the convent had its dormitory, kitchen,
cellars, and other appurtenances, which made it one of the
noblest houses of our order in Ix^land. Inl^e choir of the

VRAKCISCAir MOKASTEBIIS IK IBILANB. 57

churcli 18 the tomb of Donald MacCarthy, who is suppoeed
to have been the founder ; and there yet remain many
other monuments of the O'Donovans, O'Heas, and De
Oourceys, lords of Kinsale. One of that noble family,
Edmund, bishop of Boss, a member of our brotherhood,
was a great benefactor to the church and convent ; for,
owing to the munificence of his nephew, James, lord Kin-
sale, ne rebuilt the bell^tower, dormitory, infirmary, and
library ; and at his deaUi, whidi occurrea in 1518, he be-
queauied to us many valuable legacies of altar-plate and
books. He, with many of his ancestors, is iaterred in the
church of Timoleague.

** When I visited the place, the entire edifice was still
standing, though sadly in need of repairs ; for, indeed, it
had suffered much from the ruthless vandalism of the
English soldiers, and also from the sacrilegious rapacity of
William Lyons, Protestant bishop of Cork, and a certain
dr. Hammer, an Anglican minister, of whom I will have
occasion to speak hereafter.

** During the late war, a body of English soldiers, consist-
ing of a hundred infantry and fifty horse, halted before
Timoleague, and, entering the church, began to smash the
beautiful stained-glass windows, and destroy the various
pictures, about the altar, notwithstanding the earnest en-
treaties of the people, who strove to dissuade them. It so
happened that the carpenter whom our friars employed to
look after the repairs of the sacred edifice, was present on
this occasion, and, seeing the impiety of those creedless
mercenaries, he addressed nimself to our holy founder thus :
'St. Francis, in whose honour this house was built» I
know that thou art all-powerful with God, and canst ob-
tain from him whatsoever thou askest : now, I solemnly
swear, that I will never do another day's work in this
monasters^, if thou dost not take speedy vengeance on
those sacrilegious wretches who have desecratea thy holy
place.' And, indeed, it would appear that the poor man's
prayer was soon heard ; for, on the following day, when
the soldier» had struck their tents, after doing such
serious damage to the church and monastery, they were
encountered oy Daniel- O'Sullivan, prince of Bear, who,
with the small force then under his command, fell upon
them, and cut them to piecetu Of their entire number
only one escaped.

5S THB RIBV AND IfALL 07 THK

*' The Anglican minister whom I mentioned, destroyed the
dormitory in 1596 ; for he came in a small vessel to Time-
league, in order to procure timber for a house which he was
buuding near Cork ; and having learned that the friars' cells
were wainscoted with oak, ekiborately carved, he pulled
asunder the rich woodwork, and placed it aboara the
vesseL But his sacrilege was duly avenged ; for the ship
had hardly put to sea when a gale sprung up, and sent it
with its freight to the bottom.

<* Lyons, the Protestant bishop, as I have already told yon,
was an unrelenting enemy to our convent of Timolea^e,
and never spared that beautiful house when he required
building materials. In 1590, havine commenced building
a mill, he and his retainers made a descent on the mill be-
longing to our friars, which stood on the Arrighideen, and
carried ofif the cut stones and machinery, which he re*
erected in his own neighbourhood. Soon afterwards, how-
ever, an inundation swept away all his work ; and manj
who witnessed the fact attributed it to the indignation of
heaven.

** Many and many a heartrending tale could T relate to
you of Lyons's implacable hatred to the Catholics, and our
poor friars in particular. In 1595 he was appointed a
commissioner to outroot the Irish population from their
homesteads in Munster, and plant English in their pleasant
fields. How any man, and particularly one calling him-
self a Christian bishop, could undertake such a work,
ajipears unintelligible ; but, assuredly, a fitter instrument
could not have been chosen by queen Elizabeth than that
remorseless tyrant. Even in his extreme old age he per*
secuted the Catholics with fire and sword ; and it was not
till he felt the hand of God heavy upon him that he de-
sisted, as will appear from what I am going to tell you.
On the Christmas eve of 1612, word was brought him that
the people all around Timoleague were to assemble in the
convent to assist at midnight Mass ; and no sooner was he
made aware of this than he resolved to set out, attended
by a posse' of ruffians who usually accompanied him, to
disperse the friars and congregation. Hardly, however,
was he outside Cork when he was seized with a sudden
illness, which so alarmed his companions that they besought
him to return home. Heedless of their remonstrances he
alighted from his horse, and wrapping himself in warmer

FRINOISOAN UONASTEItIVS IN IRBLANI^. 59

clothing; he monnted again, intent on his bloody mission,
€k>d, however, baffled him ; for, a few hours afterwards,
the intensity of the pain compelled him to retrace his steps
to Cork. Erer since then, for he is still living, he has be-
come somewhat forbearing. Let me not forget to mention,
that among those who await the resurrection within the
hallowed precincts of Timoleaguei, lies Eugene MacEgan,
bishop- elect of Ross, who, when acting as c&aplain to the
Catholic troops commanded by Daniel O'SuUivan, in 1602,
was mortally wounded by the English, and died on the
field of battle. He, in sooth, was a man of great promise,
having been educated at Rome, whence he nad just then
returned. 0*Sullivan and the sept of the MacCarthys had
bis remains conveyed toTimoleagne, where they buried him
in the cloister, just at the north-western angle, and under
a little cross which they set in the wall to mark the rest-
ing-place of one who was faithful to lus God and country.
Such are the few memorabilia that I have gathered con*
ceming Kilcrea and Timoleague, and I trust that they will
be of use ages after you and I shall have passed away."

CHAPTER Vr.

YRANCISCAN CONVENTS OF MOYNB, AOSSEBRTCK, AND

KILCONNBLL.

<(THEFranci8cai\ monasteries of the west of Ireland, and
particularly those of Moyne, Rosserrick and Rilconnell,''
resumed the provincial, ''deserve to have a chapter
especially devoted to their history ; for, indeed, they once
ranked among the most famous houses of our order either
at home or abroad. I visited each of them in the year
1606, and lost no opportiuity of collecting on the spot every
incident relating to their foundation and falL Let us,
therefore, save horn oblivion a record which, in times to
come, will be appreciated by the pilgrim and antiquarian
when they visit those hallowed places, now, alas, desecrated
and wrested from their rightful owners."

" I have heard," said father Purcell, ''that the Francis-
cans had many establishments in the west of Ireland ;
but I thought none of them could compare with those of
I>onegal, Multifeman, Timoleague, or KUcrea — — "

00 TBS BIBB IVD BALL OB THB

" On tliat head,*' intemipted the provincial, " yonr
jadgmeDt has deceived you ; for the chieftains of Gonnaught
were most munificent benefactors of our order ; and the
churches and monasteries which they erected for us were
nowise inferior to those for which we are indebted to the
piety of the native princes of the north and south. The
Anglo-Norman nobles, of the Pale built many a fair and
spacious monastery for Franciscans ; but, assuredly, their
veneration for our institute could not have been greater
than that which the De Burgos, O^Kellys, and Joyces ever
evinced for our poor habit and rigid rule. The De Burffos,

1 admits entered Ireland as invaders ; but in time uxey
became more Irish than the Irish themselves; mingling
their blood with that of the aboriginal magnates, the
0*Flaherties, O'Dowds, and other princely families, each
and all of whom have undeniable claims to our gratitude.
You have not been in Connaught, and I greatly fear that
my poor description will not enable you to realize more
than a faint idea of the magnificent monasteries — magni*
ficent even in their wrec£-~which the De Burgos and
O^Kellys erected and endowed for us in that province,
where, till these disastrous times, they lived and reigned
with all but kingly state. Take your pen, therefore, and
follow me while I dictate, as well as I can, the history of
the monastery of Moyne, as I have learned it from ancient
records, and also from the Ups of those who witnessed its
latest vicissitudes.

'* In the year 1460, Nehemias 0*Donoghoe, the first pro-
vincial-vicar in Ireland of the Observantine order of St,
Francis, memorialed Mac William Burke to. grant him a
piece of land in Tyrawley, whereon he might erect a monas*
tery for a community of the reformed order of Franciscans.
Mac William eaVe willing ear to the provincial^s prayer^
and told him he was at liberty to select any site he choose,
within the borders of his territory, for the church and con-
vent he was about to build. Indeed, Mac William could
not refuse any request coming from such a man as the pro-
vincial O'Donoghoe, for he was famed throughout all Ire*
land as an eloquent preacher, and friar of most exemplary
life ; so much so, that his name is recorded with special

TBANCISCAN MOKASTERISB BT TKELAHTD, '61

a short distance from the ancient episcopal city of Killala ;
and no sooner had he made the selection, than Mac William,
accompanied by his subordinate chieftains, warriors, bards,
and brehons, proceeded to lay the first stone of the new chnrch
and monastery. No words of mine could adequately describe
the beauty of the site which the provincial chose for the build-
ings ; let it sufiice to tell you that it was a sweet verdant
plain crowning a gentle eminence, at whose foot the silveiy
Moy discharges ite waters into the bay of Killala, right
opposite a sandy ridge, called by the natives of the place
the island of Bertragh or Bertigia^ Within an incredilfly '
short time willing hearts and sturdy hands erected the
church and monastery from the foundations ; and, in the.
year 1462, Donatus O'Connor, bishop of Killala, consecrated,
the new church under the invocation of St. Francis. Thd
exquisite beauty of the architecture of both chnrch and
monastery, was the theme of every tongue ; and the ricliL
display of ornamentation in the tracery of the windows,
and the coupleted pillars of the cloister, even to this day,
attest that the men who executed the work were thoroughly
skilled in their craft, and enthusiastic cultivators of ari in
its every department. The entire of the edifice, even to
the very altars, was constructed of oolite, or that stone so
like marble which is composed of i)etrified sea-shells ; and
what is no less remarkable, the mortar used in the building
was made of burnt shells, which, as the fact proves, is the
most binding description of cement that can be found. Tn 1
sooth, it was a beautiful and spacious building, that most /
solemn church near the mouth of the Moy ; and oh, how '
this poor old heart throbs when I recall the glorious pro-
spect which presented itself to my eyes when first I ascended '
the massive square tower, ninety feet high, that springs
from the gable ends, forming the choir and nave of that horj;
edifice ! There was the great Atlantic rolling its crested
billows against the granitic headlands ; and from the same
eminence I could see the time-worn belfry of the ancient
cathedral of Killala, and that old round tower, whose origin
and use must ever remain shrouded in mystery. Never,
never shall the impressions of that splendid prospect fade
from my memory.

" As soon as the building ofjbhe chnrch and monastery was
completed, Mac William caused the entire to be enclosed with
a strong stone wall, and he also endowed the friars with

€S TBS BUB An> WAUs OF

fonM aerw of good putnfBge, and empoweted fliem to
erect miUii for gnnding com, and also simdiy iMnds in
order that thejr might never want fiah. Nor ahonld I omit
to mention that there ia within the laid encloenre a never-
laiUBg apring of wholesome limpid water, which aweepa ao
impetaonaly to the sea^ that the miUa cculd never he idle
when there was com to he ^;roand. Apart from the pio-
tnre«qne, anrely never was aite more happily choaen for a
convent of oar order. Shine, heavily laden, diachaiged
their oaigoea almoet nnder the windows of the infirmary ;
and, when the tide ebbed, one might waUc, diy-ahod, to
the ialand of Bertragh. In fact there waa no commodity
,' of Hf e wanting to our friars, as long as they were allowed to
I live peaceably in Moyne. Their gardena and orchards snp-
' plica them with vegetables and fruit ; their ponds with
tish ; the beach with Crustacea ; the island of Bertragh
with tnccnlent rabbits; and, as for wine, did not the
Spanish caravels come freighted with it into the neighbour-
ing harbour of Killala ? It has been asserted— I know not
on what authority — that the church and convent of Moyne
were founded by the Barrets, before the latter were driven
out by the De Burgos ; and others have affirmed, that
father Nehemias O'Donoghoe merely took possession of the
place in* obedience to a mandate of pope Nicholas V. In
my opinion, neither of these statements is true ; and I am.
sustained in what I have said of the founder, and the date
of the foundation, by various ancient records, which I have
examined carefully. As for Nehemias O'Donoghoe, hia
death is recorded in the Book of Adare as having occurred
in the vear 1500.

'* LiiLe the monastery of Donegal, and other houses o€
our institute in Ireland, Moyne possessed a valuable^
library, for it was during a century and a-half the provin-
cial school, which all the aspirants of our habit were wont
to frequent. Hence, in times anterior to the dissolution
of the religious houses, the community of Moyne never
numbered less than fifty friars, including priests, professors
in the various departments of literature, students, and lay-
brothers.

'* In the ci^ts of Movne are interred many of the great
families of Tir-eragh and Tirawley, whose gorgeous monu-
ments I have seen in the church. The O'Dowds, once
potent lords of the fair lands extending from the river

FRANCISCAN H0NASTBBI1ES IN IRELAND. 63

Robe to the Codnagh, at DrumclifF, now moulder in the
vaults of Moyne, side by edde with the De Burgoa, the
Barrets, and the Lynotts, whose forefathers came from
Wales to Tirawley, m the evil days of Dermod MacMur-
rough. Indeed, so devoted were ihe 0*Dowds to the or&r
of St. Francis, that many and many a chief of that
martial race renounced the world for the austerities of
Moyne, and died there in the habit of our order. Thud, in
1538, Owen O'Dowd, after having been thirty years chief
of his name, died a mortified brother, in tnat venerable
monastery ; and at a later period, another Owen O'Dowd,
a chieftain far-famed for many a warlike deed, and his
wife, Sabia, daughter of Walter de Burgh, were interred in
the same ancestral sepulchre.

** In the thirty-seventh year of the reign of queen
Elizabeth, one Edmond Barret had a grant of the monas-
tery and all its appurtenances, to hold the same for ever,
at an annual rent of five shillings per annum ; but when I
visited the place in 1606, I found tnat it was in possession
of an English widow, who let the church and a few cells
of the monastery to six of our friars. Be it told to the
honour of the most noble Thomas de Burgh, that he not
only contributed to the maintenance of the little commu-
nity, but also paid annually the sum for which the friars
rented the place from the widow. The whole neighbour-
hood was then thickly planted with English and Scotch
settlers ; and although I appeared among them in the habit
of my order, they gave me a cordial welcome ; and, as far
as I could learn, they invariably treated the friars with
marked kindness. This, however, was not from a love of
our religion, but from sheer worldly prudence ; for as those
Scotch and English settlers carried on an extensive trade in
fish and other commodities with the natives, they knew
right well that they were only consulting their own inte-
rests by suffering the friars to live there unmolested, as
the people of the whole district, for many miles roimd,
were in the habit of resorting to the monastery on Sun-
days and holidays. In a word, to drive away the friars
would have been to sacrifice the gains on which those
greedy adventurers were so intent. I found both church
and monastery in good condition ; for the people, notwith-
Btanding all *they had to suffer, contributed generously
towards the repairs «f the edifice.

64 rSB BISB AND TALL OF THX

" Bat heartrendinff, indeed, were the accoants wliich I
heard from some of the old people, who had witnessed the
atrocities perpetrated by the English soldiers within the
pcecincts pf the church and monastery, during queen
Elizabeth's reign, when Edward Fitton was president of
Connau^ht. I sive you the story as I heard it. for I think
that incidents of the sort should be transmitted to pos-
terity.

)' In the year 1577t a detachment of Fitton's soldiers
garrisoned the convent ; and having made prisoners of
some distinguished individuals, supposed to be disaffected
to the queen, they threatened one of them with instant
death if ne did not reveal a conspiracy, in which they said
he was implicated. The accused denied that he was cog-
nizant of any plot ; and no sooner had he made this declara-
tion, than the English commander ordered him to be hung.
At this terrible crisis, the prisoner implored permission for
one of our friars to hear his confession, and the request
was granted by the commanding officer, who fancied that
he would be able to induce the confessor to reveal the
secrets of the doomed man. In this, however, he was
disappointed ; and when he found that he could not per-
suade the priest to violate the sacramental seal, he caused
him to be put to death within the very precincts of the
church. I had the account of this flagitious transactioa
from some who were eye-witnesses of it, and who, as they
had assisted at the execution, came to me begging absolu-
tion and penance.

<*0n another occasion, that is to say, in 1578, it was
notified to the conmiunity of Moyne, that a marauding
party of the English was about to make a raid on the
monastery ; and on hearing this, the friars resolved to save
their lives by making out to sea in boats that were moored
hard by. A venerable lay-brother, however, named Felix
O'Hara, refused to quit the place, alleging that the English
would not harm one so aged as he, and that his presence
might induce them to respect the holy place. At length
the soldiers arrived, plundered the church, and then made
off with their booty. After some time had elapsed, the
friars returned to Moyne ; and on entering the church,
found O'Hara dead, and bathed in his blood, on the steps
of the grand altar, where the sacrilegious English had
wantonly murdered him. So much tor the venerable

FRANCISCA.N MONARTEBIES IN IRSLAND. 65

monastery of Moyne, which, I trust in God, will one day-
revert to its rightful owners.

*' A few miles south-east of Killala, Rosserrick, another
of our monasteries, sees itself reflected in the waters of
the Moy. It was founded early in the fifteenth century,
by a clueftain of the Joyces, a potent family, of Welsh ex-
traction, singularly remarkable for their gigantic stature,
who settled in West Gonnaught, in me thirteenth
century, under the protection of the OTlaherties. Bos-
serrick occupies the site of a primitive Irish oratory, and
the place derives its name from Searka, a holy woman, who is
said to have blessed the Bom, or promontory, that runs out
into the river. The site, indeed, was happily chosen, and
the entire edifice is an exquisite specimen of the architect's
skill. The church and monastery are built of a compact
blueish stone, and the former is surmounted by the grace-
ful square bell-tower, so peculiar to all our Irish Francis-
can houses. The view from the. summit of that campanile
is truly enchanting ; ana as for the internal requirements
of such an establishment — its cloisters, library, dormitory,
refectory, and schools— the munificence of the Joyces left
nothing to be desired,"

**Am I to understand," asked father Purcell, "that
BoBserrick, like the convent of Moyne, was a school for
those who aspired to our poor habit?"

** By no means," replied the provincial ; "for Rosserrick
belonged to the third order of St. Francis, which counted
well nigh fifty houses in various parts of Ireland. Most of
them date their erection in the fifteenth century, those espe-
cially of Killybegs, Kil-0-Donel, and Magherabeg, near our
great monastery of Donegal, which were founded by the 0' Don-
nells and their tributary chieftains. The friars of these houses
lived in community, observed strict discipline, discharged
pastoral duties, ^uch as attending the sick and dying in the
immediate neighbourhood, and devoted themselves to edu-
cating the youth of the circumjacent districts. Such was
the rule of the Tertiaries of St. Francis ; and, indeed, so
solicitous were the heads of the great families— the O'Donnells
and MacSwynes of Fanad, for example — for the education of
their people, that they took special care to settle large en-
dowments on the houses of the third order, which, I need
hardly tell you, were always subject to the control of our
generals and provincials. The Tertiaries, indeed, did good

* 9

66 THE RISE AND FALL OF THE

service in Ireland ; for the liberality of the native princes
enabled them to diffuse learning among the poorer classes,
who were always addicted to booklore. I myself have
met peasant lads educated in those schools, who were as
familiar with Virgil, Horace, Homer, and other classic
writers, as they were with the genealogies of the Mile-
sian princes. Tis almost superfluous to tell you that
the cood fathers of those venerable houses reared their
Bcholara in unalterable hatred to the principles of the new
religion, which, under the pseudonym of R^ormcUionf has
laid its sacrilegious hands on all that once was ours. Ross-
errick, too, shared the hard fate of the other religious houses ;
Hud when I visited it, its roof had fallen in, thus exposing
Ihe elaborate carvings of the windows, and the fine tracery
of the coupleted cloister, to the pitiless rain and storm, that
will wreak their ragjB on boui till better timer dawn
for TrelandL Alas, alas, the hope I cherished of seeing the
advent of such a dav, has long sinoe faded from my heart ;
and I myself, like the edifices of which we are discoursing,
have grown to be a very ruin — weak, hoary, and tottering.
This is digression; but I may as well tell you that, ever since
the September of 1603, I abandoned all hope of seeing Ire-
land and our holy order rescued from the misfortunes that
have fallen heavUy on both ; for in that fatal year we lost
the only one who could, perhaps, have reversed our destiny."

•* And who was he ?" demanded father PurcelL

"WhoT replied the provincial — "who but Hugh Roe
O'Donnell, who, when all seemed lost in the disaster of Kin-
sale, hastened away to Spain to implore aid for Ireland in
that hour of her direst need. Alas, that aid never came ;
snd he who went to seek it found an untimely grave incur
monastery at Valladolid. On him my hojpes were based,
and with him they lie buried "

" Father," int^rupted Purcell, ** every one has heard of
the achievements of that great chieftain ; but I'd suggest
that you would enable me to leave in these pages a faithful
description of his personal appearance. It has been truly
said that history has a charlatanism, which usually repre-
sents its heroes in perspective, in order to tone down what-
ever is base or repulsive in their features. Sure I am that
be should not be treated thus, for doubtless you knew him."

** Knew hini !'* replied the provincial ; ** and who could
hftve known him better ? In sooth, dear brother, I knew him

FRANCISCAN MONASTEKIES IN IRELAND. 67

from ids fifteentli year, wjien Perrott*8 hired agent basely
entrapped him aboard the ship that anchored opposite the
Carmelite nunnery of Eathmullen. Often and often, dur-
iug the four years he was prisoner in Dublin castle, have I
loitered about that fortress, to catch a glimpse of him when
he and his fellow-captives were allowed to walk out on the
ramparts to breathe fresh air— nay, after deputy Fitz Wil-
liams had clutched the bribe of a thousand pounds, given
him by O'Neill to connive at his brother-in-law's escape, I
was one of the first to congratulate him as he lay sick and
frostbitten ib the fastness of Glenmalure, tended by doc-
tors, and guarded by 0' Byrne's galloglass."

* * And did the lord deputy really take the bribe ?" asked
father Purcell.

** There can hardly be a doubt of it," answered the i)ro-
vincial; ** for Fitzwilliams was one of the most sordid men
that ever filled that high office ; and, like his predecessor
Perrott, he turned the deputyship to good account, never
scrupling any atrocity that might help him to fill his cof-
fers. He was, in sooth, a very miser ; and you are aware
that he went to Gonnaught when he heard that some ships
of the Armada were stranded on the coast, and laid waste
whole territories of the Irish chiefs, because they could not,
or would not, give him the Spanish gold, which was said to
have been found on the persons of tiie shipwrecked sailors.
But as to the bribe given for O'Donnell's enlargement, sir
Kobert Gardiner and others charged Fitzwilliams with
having accepted it. '»

^ ** And how did he meet the accusation of having con-
nived at the escape of the prisoners ?'*

"Very clumsily indeed," replied the provincial; "for
some months after their return to Ulster, he wrote to queen
Elizabeth that the whole blame was to , be thrown on
Maplesdon, the chief warder of Dublin ' castle, and the
jailor under him, whose business it was to see, iunce every
twenty-four hours, that ^he prisoner's chains were weU
secured ; and he concluded tnis strange letter by telling
her majesty that he had dismissed Maplesdon, and com-
mitted the under-jailor to a dungeon with good store of
irons.

* * And you ask me did I know Hugh Ruf us O'Donnell I I
was but a stripling when he was seized by Perrott's strata-
c;em ; and little did I then think that I would one da^ wear

68 THE RISE AND FALL OF THE

a friar's habit in the monastery of Donegal, or in this house
of Louvain. Friend, I told you before that I was a soldier
in my prime, and that I marched under his banner, after J
had witnessed his inauguration on the mound of Kilma-
crenan. That, indeed, was a glorious day, when O'Freel, the
erenach, placed the wand of sovereignty in his small hand,
and proclaimed him the O'Donnell. Knew him ! O well I
did in every phase of his career : in the hour of his splendid
victory over Clifford in the passes of the Curlieus ; and was
I not at his side when his cavalry chased the remnant of
Bagnall's routed forces from the Black water into Armagh 7
But what have I to do with recollections which bring t^rs
to these aged eyes — tears that I should reserve for the sins
of my youth ? Alas, alas, I knew him too in the hour of
his reverse; and was one of the last to kiss his hand on the
beach of Gastlehaven, when he was about to embark for
Spain. The treachery, the defeat of Kinsale, had not
broken his noble spirit ; for he told us that we might soon
expect to see him again, with a fleet of Spanish ships, in the
bay of DonegaL But as you think it right that generations
to come should be acquainted with his person, take your
pen, and follow me carefully while I dictate.

** In statin*e he was above the middle height ; his body
was robust ; his features, symmetry, and entire mien were
elegant ; his voice, sweet and musical. In his enterprises
he was quick and active, ever a lover of justice, and a most
inflexible punisher of malefactors. Persevering in his un-
dertakings, faithful to his promises, most patient in hard-
ships, rigid and severe, in maintaining military discipline,
courageous in presence of difficultie-s, brave in battle,
affable and courteous to every one, zealous for the restora-
tion of the Catholic faith, and a great despiser of the world ;
8o much so, that I have often heard him say, that if it
pleased God to give a fortunate issue to the war, he would
become a friar of St. Francis' order. He never married ;
his mind was great, but nowise pA>ud : he was very zealous
for ecclesiastical discipline and reformation ; so much so, that,
through excess, he sometimes carried himself austerely with
certain priests. He had a singular love for our order, and
in all his actions he was truly sincere. As for his morality,
it was never questioned— he was fond of the society of spiri-
tual men, whose aid and counsel he was wont to seek. Oil
his doathbed he begged St. Francis' habit, in which he was

FRANCISCAN MONASTERIES IN IRELAND. C9

buried, and he begged it with the intention of renouncing
the world, had it pTeased.God to restore him to health.
* ** Now," said the provincial, " you have a true portrait
of a great man ; not such, indeed, as Van Dyek would give
on canvas, but in my judgment a great deal better ; for
who could paint the virtues or the internal emotions ? But
you have led me into a digression ; and as I have given you
all the particulars that I was able to collect regarding
Bosserrick monastery, we will now speak of anotner far
more famous — I mean that of Kilconnell.

** For many a century before and after the English inva-
sion, the potent family of 0' Kelly ruled with regal sway
over the vast territory of Hy-Many, which originally ex-
tended from Clontuskert, in the county of Roscommon,
southwards, to the boundary of the county Clare, and from
Athlone, westwards, to Seelin and Athenry, in the county
of Gal way. Well, indeed, do the O'Kellys deserve to l>e
styled a great family, for their strong walled castles were
all but countless, their martial prowess unsui'passed, and
their piety most exemplary. But, of them all, there was
none more celebrated for his virtues than William O'Kelly,
presumptive heir to the lordship of Hy-Many, who, in
1353, founded the magnificent monastery of Kilconnell for
conventual Franciscans. It was, indeed, an edifice second
to none of its class in Ireland, admirably constructed,
spacious in all its departments, and most eligibly situated
on the great thoroughfare leading from Athlone to Galway.
In 1460, however, the original building was considerably
modified and enlarged, when, at the instance of Malachy
O'Kelly, the convent was reformed, and its inmat^
adopted the strict observance. Malachy O'Kelly died in
1464, and was buried in the sumptuous sepulchre which
was erected within the walls of the church by William, the
original founder, for himself and his posterity. Indeed, I
have seen in that church numerous monuments erected by
the chief families of the bordering districts, which, as re-
gards the marble of which they were wrought, and the ex«
quisite finish of their elaborate sculpture, might challenge
comparison with some of the most artistic developments
of the same character in the cathedral of St. Gaaule at
Brussels.

'*It is not my intention to speak of the Franciscans
who dwelt in Kilconnell before the disastrous days of the

70 THE RISE AND FALL OF THE

English schism ; and I will therefore content myself with
leaving on record some facts connected with that venerable
house, which I learned from trustworthy witnesses, when I
visited the place some years ago. On that occasion I found
the church in good preservation, owing in great measure to
a singular circumstance, which I will mention by-and-by.
It may not be out of place, however, to premise, that the
church and monastery were built of finely-cut stone, and
that both were covered with a roof of wood, made to re-
semble tiles. Within the church are seven altars ; and all
the internal decorations, whether in stone or wood, are ad-
mirably wrought. The sacred edifice is surmounted by a
lofty tower, and, strange to say, it^ sweet-toned bell is still
there, notwithstanding the rapacity of the English Protes-
tants, who seldom spare such things. In a word, I found
the church in excellent condition ; the stained glass of the
windows unbroken, the pictures undefaced, and the sculp-
tured work unmutilated. I was there on more than one
occasion, and with the six poor friars who still clung to
the place, sang the office in choir — nay, and preached to
vast crowds, so vast that the church could not contain them
aU.

'* It would seem that a special providence watched over
Kilconnell, to save it from the destruction which had fallen
on nearly all our other houses ; and you will agree with me
in this, when I tell you that it stood in a most ex^yosed posi-
tion, and was frequently head-quarters of English regiments
during the Elizabethan war. Indeed, from time to time it
was garrisoned by whole companies, who messed and lit
fires within the very church ; and yet, strange to say, it
sustained little or no injury from such unbidden guests I
A few manifest proofs of that special interposition of heaven
cannot but interest you, and assuredly they deserve to be
placed on record.

*' You have heard, no doubt, of sirBichard Bingham, the
governor of Connaught, whose inhuman treatment of the
native Irish so shocked even queen Elijisabeth herself, that
she was obliged to dismiss him from that high office in 1595,
and summon him to London to answer the charges of cold-
blooded murders which were preferred against him by the
Burkes and others. You are aware that that heartless
miscreant sailed round Tirconnell, and with his ship's crew
plundered the defenceless nuns -of the Carmelite convent of

IntANdSCAN UONASTBRIES IS IRELAND. 71

Batlimulleii, of vestments, clialices, and all their other
V^aluables. You have heard, too, how he and his brother
George, subsequently slain by Ulick Burke, as he deserved,
swept with fire and sword the island of Tory, demolishing
its crosses and oratories, which stood there since the days
of Golumb-Kill. Nevertheless, incredible as it may seem,
this very Biugham behaved kindly to the friars of Kilconnell,
where he used to keep his head-quarters. In fact, he gave
strict orders to his omcers and men to see that the church
and the monastery should sustain no injury at their hands —
nay, he summoned some of the friars to his presence, and
exhorted them to do all in their power to keep the buildings
in good repair.

"In the year 1596, too, during the presidency of sir
Conyers Clifford, Kilconnell was once more turned into a
barrack for English soldiers, after they had been signally
defeated by O'Donuell and O'Neill in various engagements.
On this latter occasion, the English garrisoned the mo-
nastery with not less than fifteen companies ; for they came
to besiege Garlow and Aughrim, two strong castles, situated
within three or four miles of each other, which belonged to
O'Kelly, then in alliance with the Irish princes. Now, it
so happened that one of the English officers then stationed
there had a horse of which he was very fond, and he deter-
mined to stable it within the very chancel, hard by the
steps of St. Francis* altar, where he caused hay and straw
to be laid for the brute. Heaven, however, it would seem,
resented this outrage ; for, on the next morning, the valuable
charger was found stark dead, though sound and strong
the night before. Even the very companions of this captain
Hynck, for such was his name, admitted that this was a
jnst judgment on his impiety. Nevertheless, the English
soldiers forced open the tombs of the princes and chieftains
buried in the church, thinking that they would light on
concealed treasure ; nor did they desist from these outrages
till one of them had his legs fractured by the falling of a
huge mass of stoue.

'* It was in the same year (1596) that captain Stryck, a
Protestant indeed, yet, withal, a man of generous disposi-
tion, for I knew him well, influenced no doubt by the facts
which I have been relating, sent for the friars, and gave
them his word of honour that no one would be allowed to
molest them — nay, he issued strict orders that no injury

72 THE RISE AND FALL 07 THE

should be done to the convent, and he forbade his soldiers
to burn the woodwork of the church or of the cloisters.
He then frave up the sacristy to the friars, and also some
cells in the dormitory, for their sole use ; and so liberal was
this officer, that he allowed Mass to be said privately in the
sacristy. During the mne months he remained there, the
friars continued to live in the monastery which God
enabled them to preserve. Meanwhile, all the trees in the
orchards and gardens were cut down by the soldiers and
used for fuel ; for although they often went to the neigh-
bouring woods to fell it, and never returned without losmg
some of their men, yet so fearful were they of injuring the
church or the woodwork of the convent, that they preferred
meeting the enemy face to face, and fighting for every stick
they carried off.

"Now, will you not agree with me in ascribing the pre-
servation of this monastery to the especial providence of
God ? What else could have restrained that bloody-minded
monster, Bingham, from reducing it to a charred and
rifted ruin ? What else could have kept Stryck from de-
molishing it stone by stone? But this account of that
venerable house would be imperfecfc, if it did not bear testi-
mony to the zealous exertions of those friars, who spared no
effort for its preservation. Let us, therefore, hand down
their names to posterity ; and should it please God, in some
future age, to restore Kilconnell to the Franciscans, let
them never forget to pray for the souls of fathers Solomon
and Hugh MacEgan, and their worthy brother, Philip
Clune.

** I have nothing more to add to this narrative, except
that the monastery of Kilconnell has been granted to one
Callthorp and other Endish settlers, and that the cruel
ordinance of queen Elizabeth, commanding * houses freight
with friars ' to be suppressed, and * made fit habitations for
Englishmen,* is now being carried out to the letter. On
some future occasion I will narrate to you various particu-
lars relating to some of our other convents in the pi*ovince
of Conn aught."

As Mooney's account of the monasteries of his order was
written towards the close of 1616, it may interest the
reader to know how it fared with Kilconnell at a later
period. The transfer alluded to in the text, was made in

FBANCISCAN MONASTBBIES IN IR1ELA.ND. 73

1614 ; and the property belonging to the monastery was
then described as consisting of ** three acres, on which
stood a convent, containing O Donnellan's chapel, a chapter-
hoose, library, hall, storehouse, four chambers, twenty-
eight small chambers, four granaries, three orchards, sixty
ash-trees, a mill, a watercourse, and four acres of arable
land," all of which were granted by James I. to one Gall-
thorp. The Franciscans, nevertheless, continued to reside
in the neighbourhood of the convent for nearly a century
afterwards, and were supported by the O'Kellys, many of
whom bequeathed legacies to them, with injunction to
pray for their departed souls. The last of those pious
donors was, we believe^ John O'Kelly, ancestor of count
O'Kelly, of France, who, dying in 1714, left a legacy to the
poor friars then dwelling near the ruins of Kilconnell
abbey, and ordered that his remains should be interred
in the ancestral tomb. Many of the leading Catholic
families of Leinster, transplanted to Connaught by Crom-
well—the Trimblestones, Betaghs x>f MoynaJty, county of
Meath, and others— erected monuments for themselves,
which may still be seen within the ruins ; and it would
appear that the friars continued to say Mass there occa-
sionally, till some short time before the battle of Aughrim,
when they took refuge iu a neighbouring bog, now called
"the Friar's Bog," wliere they existed as best they could in
miserable shielings. Dr. O'Donovan, the most learned of
our topographers and antiquarians, states, in the Ordnance
Survey of co. Gal way, that the bell of Kilconnell, weighing
one and a-half cwt., and bearing an inscription, was found
in the same bog some time previous to 1838 ; and he also
adds, that a person living in that neighbourhood had then
in his possession a wooden image of St. Francis, that for-
merly belonged to the monastery.

CHAPTER VII.

IRANCISCAN MONASTERIES OP OALWAY, BOSSKRILLY,
KENALEHAN, AND CBEEVELEA. *

<'Thb Franciscan monastery of Gal way," resumed the
provincial, *' was founded by William de Burgh, surnamed
lAaghy the ^y, in the year 1296, outside the city wall, and
in tifie fair httle island called after the protomartyr — IwtuUk

74 THB BISB AMD FALL OF THB

8. Stephani. The illustrious founder spared no •xpense to
render this monastery one of the finest in Ireland ; and,
indeed, the spacious dimensions of its church, the rich
marble of which it was constructed, and the splendour of
its altars, are so many irrefragable evidences of the piety
and taste of the noble De Burgh. He lived to see it so-
lemnly consecrated, and when dying ordered that his
remains should be laid in the goreeous monument which he
caused to be built for himself and his posteritv, right
under the shadow of the grand altar. When I visited
Galway, the tomb of the founder, like those of most of the
chief families of the neighbourhood, was in good preserva-
tion, but particularly that of De Burgh, round whose re-
cumbent effigy I read the following inscription : ' Memorim
IlImL Domini Qui. de Burgo, Suae, Nationia principis et
hujua monaaterU fundatoria qui obiit 1324/ The endow-
ments which De Burgh made to this monastery were very
numerous, and consisted of water-mills uj>on the river, and
the tithes of some acres of arable land near the city ; and,
that our friars should never lack fish, he ordained that on
every Wednesday they should be supplied with one salmon
out of the great weir, on every Saturday with three out of
the high weir, and on the same day with one out of the
haul-net, and with all the eels that might be taken one day
in each week out of the many eel weirs on the river.

** As an instance of the high esteem in which the Fran-
ciscans of Galway were held by the court of Rome, I
should not omit to tell yon that, in 1381, pope Urban VL
empowered the guardian of tbiat venerable house to ex-
communicate every one within the borders of Connaught
who presumed to adopt the party of the anti-pope, Clement
VII., whose abettors were very numerous in France,
Naples, and Scotland. That, in sooth, was a disastrous era
to the Church, when cardinals, kings, and laymen con-
tested the legitimacy of the election of the two rival
pontiffs, the one in Avignon and the other in Rome ; but^
be it recorded to the honour of our Qalway brethren, they
adhered with unalterable fidelity to pope Urban, the right-
ful successor of Gregory XI., who, at the instance of St
Catherine of Siena, re-established the residence of the
popes in Rome, after an interval of seventy years, which
the people of tliat city termed the seven decades of the
Babylonish captivity.

FRANCISCAN MONASTERIES IN IRELAND. 76

"I may say, unhesitatingly, that the Gal way monastery
had as many benefactors as any other house of our order in
Ireland; for, indeed, the inhabitants of that ancient city
loved our habit, and never tired of contributing to the
maintenance of our brethren. The largesses of the rich
and noble helped to keep the buildings in good repair, and
the poor man was ever ready with his mite to promote the
same object. Indeed, the register which records the
multitudinous bequests and legacies of the townspeople to
that monastery, is still in the possession of one of our
brethren in Galway ; and on turning over its pages I found
ample evidence of the love and veneration which the
citizens of every grade always cherished for our institute.
How many instances could I adduce of their almost princely
mimiticence! but I must restrict myself to mentioning
only a few of the many which, I trust, will never be for-
gotten. Thus, for example, as I learnt from the register,
Edward Philibyn, a wealthy merchant, rebuilt the dor-
mitory for our friars in 1492 ; and in 1538, John French,
then chief magistrate of the city, erected the beautiful
chapel on the south side of the monastery, in honour of God
and St. Francis, and for the good estate of his own soul and
the souls of his posterity. As for the tombs of the dis-
tinguished denizens of Galway and its neighbourhood who
selected our church for their last resting-place, let it suffice
to say that they are very numerous, and splendid produc-
tions of the sculptor's chisel. De Burghs, Lynches, Fitz-
Stephens, and G'Flaherties, moulder there beneath marble
monuments, exquisitely wrought, rich in heraldry and
pompous epitaphs, recording many a high achievement on
the battle-field, in the senate, and in the mart. Apart
from those gorgeous monuments — last efforts of human
vanity if you will — there is, in the south side of the choir,
an humble cenotaph, sacred to the memory of a truly great
man, whose extensive and profound erudition rejBects honour
on the Franciscan order, of which he was, in sooth, a most
distinguished ornament ; I speak of Maurice O'Fihiley, or
Maurice de Portu, whom Julius II. advanced to the archi-
episcopal see of Tuam, in 1506. From what I have been
able to learn ot this wonderful scholar, it appears that he was
a native of Baltimore, in the county of Cork, and took the
surname *De Portu^ from the haven on which that town is
situated. Having completed his studies in Padua, he for a long

\
7d THB B18B AND FALL OF THB

time taught philosophy in that learned city, and earned a
world-wide reputation by the variety of his writings, some
of which were not published till after his death. His
principal works are 'Commentaries on Scotus,* a * Dictionary
of the Scriptures,' the * Enchiridion Fidei, or a Manual of
the Faith,' which he dedicated to the earl of Kildare ;
'The Compendium of Ti-uths,' in Leonine metre, and
many others which it would be superfluous to enumerate.
This trulv learned man was corrector of the press for that
far-famea printer, Benedict Locatelli, and filled the same
place in the printing establishment of Octavian Schott, at
Venice. Having assisted at the early sessions of the
council of Lateran, 1512, and returned to Ireland in the
following year, he landed at Galway, . where he fell sick
and died in our convent there. Few, indeed, have woa
greater renown in the republic of letters, and well did he
deserve the epithet bestowed upon him by the learned
men of his day, who justly styled him *Flo8 Mundi.' Two
of his successors in the see of Tuam, Thomas O'MuUaly
and Christopher Bodkin, await the resurrection in the same
humble tomb.

** This venerable monastery, however, was doomed to share
the fate of most of our other houses in Connaught ; and ac-
^ cordingly, in the year 1570, the greater part of its posses-
sions was wrested from the friars, and granted to the
cor}^)oration of Galway and their successors. As for the
convent and church, they were both assigned to an indi-
vidual, who, pretending to have adopted the doctrines of the
Anglican religion, in order to actommodate himself to tfie
times, contrived withal to do great service to our brother-
hood when they were banished from their ancient precincts.
Nothing, indeed, could have been more strange than the
conduct of this anonymous grantee ; for he possessed him-
self of the old conventual register, in which all legacies
bequeathed to our friars were entered ; and not only did he
vigorously enforce payment of the amounts, but he ac-
tually handed them over to the community, then residinsr
in a house which they rented in the city, in order that aU
such pious donations might be expended on the repairs and
preservation of the ancient edifice. Furthermore, as the
island on which the monastery stands belonged to him, he
could not be induced to part with a single perch of it at
any price, no matter how tempting ; and instead of letting

VBANCISCAN H0NA8TERIXS IN IBSLAKD. 77

it to others, he built there sundry handsome houses, which
accommodate upwards of fifty persons, together with three
water-mills for grinding com. It was during the construc-
tion of the latter that the weir which formeny belonged to
the Franciscans was demolished. From the earliest times,
too, it was customary for all vessels coming up the river
with wood and other sorts of fuel, to give a little of it by
way of alms to our friars ; and, strange as it may seem, thiiB
anonymous benefactor still insists on the observance of the
usage, and thus supplies our brotherhood in the city with
coal and firewood. He also maintains the ancient immu'
nities of St Stephen's island ; bo much so, that he will not
allow the mayor to carry his insignia beyond the middle of
the bridge leading to the island, which, in the olden time,
marked the limit of municipal jurisdiction in that quarter.
Two customs which struck me as very peculiar are still
observed in the city of Galway, and so remarkable are they
that I think them worth recording. First, almost every
one who has anything to leave when dying, bequeaths a
proportionate sum for the preservation and repairs of the
monastery; and' secondly, vast numbers of the citizens, of
every age, sex, and condition, go each evening at sunset
to that venerable old church to pray to God, who, I doubt
not, will one day reward their most edifying piety. I havis
already told you that, at the time of my visit to Galway,
the monastery and church were in excellent preservation ;
but I should not forget to mention, that, in 1603, James the
First of England granted both to sir George Carew and his
heirs for ever. Thenceforth our venerable church was
turned into a profane courthouse, where judges appointed by
Chichester, the lord deputy, held assizes for the town and
county. AlaA, it was heartrending to witness such dese-
cration ; and the tears fell fast and liot from my eyes when,
on entering the holy edifice, I found it crowded with liti-
gants, the pulpit turned into a witness-box, the choir and
chancel adapted to accommodate a multitude of noisy lawyers,
and worst of all, the grand altar transformed into a bench
for a bloated judge, who was entirely ignorant of the lan-
guage and customs of the people. Witnessing the sad
spectacle, I was forciblv remmded of that passage in the
Psalms : * Then shall they lay calves upon thine altar,'' . I
have nothing further to add to this meagre account of our
once splendid monaster of Galway, except that I was not

78 THE BISS AND FALL OF THE

able to ascertain what became of its altar-plate and rich
vestments, all of which had fallen into the hands of our
implacable enemies. A few Franciscans still continue to
live in the house which father Maurice Ultan hired for
them in the city, and their zeal is of greatest benefit to the
townspeople as well as to those of the suburbs.

"Another house," continued the provincial, ** where I
spent some days during my visit to Connaught, pleased
me almost as much as did that of Moyne. I now speak
of the beautiful and spacious church and monasteiy of
Bosserilly — or, as it is called by the Irish, Ros-Irial —
which is situated in the diocese of Tnam, and within eight
or nine miles of that ancient city. Who its founder was I
have not been able to ascertain, but there can be no doubt
that it was erected for Franciscans, in the year 1351. Never
was a more solitary spot chosen for the habitation of a
rdigious community than that on which Rosserilly stands ;
for it is surrounded by marshes and bogs, and the stillness
that reigns there is seldom broken save by the tolUng of
the church-bell, or the whirr of the countless flocks of plover
and other wild birds that frequent the fens which abound
in that desolate region. Another remarkable feature of
the locality is that the monastery can only be approached
by a causeway paved with large stones, over an extent of
fully two hundred paces, and terminating at the enclosure
which was built, in 1572, by father Ferrall MacEgan, a native
of Connaught, and then provincial of the Irish Franciscans.
He was, in sooth, a distinguished man in his day, far-famed
for eloquence and learning, and singularly fond of Ros-
serilly, which he used to compare to the Thebaid, whither
the early Christians fled for prayer and contemplation. He
died in our house of Kilconnell, where he made his religious
profession, and there he awaits the resurrection — peace to
Ids memory !

** As for the church of Rosserilly, it is indeed a beautiful
edifice- ;and the same may be said of the monastery, which,
although often garrisoned by English troops during the late
war, is still in excellent preservation. Cloister, refectory,
dormitory, chapter-house, library, and lofty beU-tower,
have all survived the disasters of that calamitous period ;
but, in the twenty-sixth year of the reign of Elizabeth, the
friars were forcibly expelled from their beloved retreat, and
nonastery and church were, by a royal ordinance, granted

VBANCISCAN MONASTERIES IN IRELAND. 79

to aD Englishman, who laid sacrilegious hands on our vest-
ments, altar-plate, books, and muniments, leaviug us
nothing but bare walls and the rifled tombs of our bene-
factors.

** It was not long, however, till the friars returned to
Bosserilly ; for that good and great man, the earl of Clan-
ricarde, took pity on them, and having purchased the
grantee's interest in the monast-ery, restored them to their
venerable abode. Thenceforth the community of Kosserilly
consisted of six priests and two lay -brothers, who laboured
-indefatigably for the repairs of the sacred edifice, till
Daniel, the Protestant archbishop of Tuam, at the instance
of sir Arthur Chichester, then lord deputy, drove them
out once more, and caused the altars to be demolished.
In justice, however, to this pseudo-bishop, who was deeply
learned in the Irish language, I must say that, although
authorized to arrest the friars, he did not do so, but rather
sent them word privately that he was coming, in order
that they might nave time to save themselves by flight.
In fact, he acted against his own will, and in obedience to
the lord deputy's commands."

"How strange," interrupted father Purceli, "that the
earl of Clanricarde should take such interest in the safety
and well-being of our poor friars !"

" Indeed," replied tne provincial, **it was only natural
that he should do so, for his mother was a true benefactress
to our order, as you will see by what I am going to tell
you. In the diocese of Clonfert, and on the declivity of
Slieve-Aughty, in a place almost as solitary as HosserUly,
we had a smaJl but handsome monastery and church, called
Kenalehan, founded by the De Burghs, some time in the
fourteenth century. It was, indeed, a fair building as.
friar could wish to see ; and the few acres of land witl
which it was endowed, yielded all that was necessary fc
the maintenance of a small community. Its gardens ai
orchards were the best in the whole district, and, as I said
before, its situation — far away from public thoroughfares,
and in the immediate territory of the earls of Clanricarde
—protected it for a considerable time from the inroads and
devastations of the English soldiery. In the late war,
however, both monastery and church were burnt to the
ground by sir Richard Bingham ; but the moment intelli-
gence of the catastrox'he reached the ears of the most noble

80 THK BI8E IND FALL OF TH8

lady, the actual earrs mother, she ordered that the church
should be re-roofed, and a wius of the monastery made
habitable for the community. Nay more, the present earl
I and flichard de Burgh, sumamed the red, rebuilt the
dormitory and other appurtenances of the place, and pur-
chased the entire from the crown, rather than allow it to
fall into the hands of the Protestants. How truly doth
holy writ say that a good tree bearetii good fruit 1"

** And yet," remarked father Purcell, " the present
earl, whom you have so much lauded, was dubbed Richard
of Kinaale, for the services he rendered the English when
they besieged the Spaniards in that town.'*

**'Tis, alas, too true!" replied the pravincial : **and,
indeed, the Anglo -Irish nobles always sided with our
enemies— nay, and induced multitudes of the Irish them-
selves to swell the ranks of our oppressors. Withal, it
would be unjust to deny the De Burghs that gratitude
which our order owes them ; for thev were always among the
best and most distinguished of its benefactors. But let me
resume, and conclude what remains to be said of Rosserilly.
In 1604, the munificence of Richard of Kinaale enabled
the community to repair the monastery and church, which,
as I have already told you, was considerably dilapidated
during the late war; and in that same year our friars
buried within its precincts one of the noblest and bravest
heroes of whom his country could boast, namely, Bryan
Oge O'Rourke, son of Bryan-na-Murtha, of whose glohoua
death you, doubtless, have heard."

'*Methinks," replied father PurceU, *Hhat he was ex-
ecuted in London ; but I confess that I am not acquainted
with the circumstances which brought him to the scaf-
fold.'»

'* Listen, then,'* continued the provincial ; "for it will
not take long to narrate them, and, indeed, they deserve
to be recorded. When some of the ships of the ill-fated
Armada went to pieces on the coast of Sligo, Bryan-na-
Murtha O'Hourke, pityine the Sjmniards who appealed to
him for protection, not only sent them immediate aid, but
invited them and their chief officer, Antonio de Leva, to
his castle of Dromahere, where they were entertained with
unbounded hospitality. O'Rourke's conduct, however,

S revoked the vengeance of the queen, who ordered her
eputy, Fitzwilliams, and sir Kichard Bingham, to waste

FRANCISCAN MONASTEBIXS IK IRELAND. 81

with fire and sword the principality of Breffny. As for
the cbieftaiQ himself, he was obliged, after some ineffectual
resistance, to fly to Scotland, where he was arrested by
order of James VL, now king of England, who perfidiously
sent him in chains to London. Arraigned on a charge of
high treason, the noble-minded chieftain refused to bend .
his knee before the insignia of royalty ; and, when, taunted
by one of the privy counsellors that he used to make no
difficulty about kneeling in presence of images of saints, he
coolly replied that there was a very wide dineren'ce between
images of holy personages and the men with whom he was
then confronted. Sentence of death being recorded, ho
was soon afterwards led to the place of execution, where he
was met by that vile apostate, Myler M^Grath, pseudo-
archbishop of Oashely who strove in vain to make him
abjure the faith ; but O'Rourke spumed him as a renegade
dog, and died a true son of holy Church."

«*Alas, alas!" interrupted father Purcell, "M*Grath'«
apostasy is a sad reflection on our seraphic institute. Ii
the wretched man still living ?"

"You, might as well say, dear brother," replied the
provincial, "that Lucifer's fall reflected disgrace on the
faithful angels. Scandals, you know, have been and must
be, as we learn from holy writ. M'Grath is still alive,
extremely old, and bedrid ; cursed by the Protestants for
wasting the revenues and manors of the ancient see of
Oashel, and derided by the *Oatholics, who are well-ac-
quainted with the drunken habits of himself and his
coadjutor. Knight. Nevertheless, from all I have been able
to learn of M'Grath, there is some reason to hope that he
wUl return to the Church ; and, if 1 be not misinformed,
he would now gladly exchange the Bock of Cashel for that
of the Capitoline, wnere he spent his youth.

** Let us now come back to Bryan Oge 0*Rourke, who,
when the news of his father's death reached Ireland, was
duly inaugurated in his stead. This worthy son of a mar-
tyred sire distinguished himself in many a glorious actioa
during the Elizaoethan war, and particularly in that far-
famed fight near Boyle, where he and O'Donnell routed the
English, under Clifford, on the memorable feast of the
Assumption. Ever active and indefatigable in the service
of his religion and country, he marched with O'Donnell to
Kinsale, and did his utmost to retrieve the disasters of thaji

o

82 THE BIBB AND fALL OF THB

fatal day, holding out to the last, till the nsurpation of a
step-brother compelled him to' return home, and reassert his
rights over the principality of his fathers. Thenceforth his
castle of Leitrim became the refuge of such of the Irish
chieftains as still held out against the English, in the hope
of obtaining succour from Spain. In that hospitable
mansion he sheltered MKjIuire of Fermanagh, and the
O'Snllivans, after their unparalleled march of a hundred
leagues, in the depth of winter, from Glengariffe to Breffny ;
and beneafh its walls he routed, with signal slaughter, a
large body of troops, commanded by Lambert, governor of
Oonnaught, and captain Bustock, who was slain on the
field. The treason, however, of his step-brother, who was
supported by the English, ultimately succeeded ; and the
gallant chieftain, deserted by his followers, after making
terms for his life, returned to Galway, where he fell sicE
and died of a broken heart. His last wish was that his
remains should repose in the cloister of Rosserilly, and our
friars took care to see that wish fulfilled ; for, in the month
of January, when the snow lay thick on the roads, the
funeral cortege, accompanied by a few faithful friends,
entered the enclosure of the monastery ; and, as soon as the
Kequiem had been sung, our brotherhood piously hollowed
out a grave in the cloister, and there interred all that
remained of one of the bravest and best of those Irishmen
whose names deserve to be canonized in the pages of history.
I know not whether that grarve is marked by any cenotaph ;
but as long as a single fragment of Rosserilly stands, the
pilgrim and the wayfarer shall point to it as the last rest-
ing-place of Bryan Oge O'Rourke."

** God rest his soul !'' said father Purcell ; '*for he was
faithful to the land that gave him birth. Did not one of
his ancestors found a monastery for the Franciscans 7"

**Most certainly," replied the provincial; **nor did I
intend to omit that fact. Indeed, I have good reason to
remember the monastery and chnrch of fiallyronrke — or, as
some call it, Creevelea — for it was there I was ordained
priest, and celebrated my first Mass. That once splendid
monastery was founded in 1508, by Owen O'Rourke, prince
of Breffny, at the instance of his wife, Margaret O'Brien,
daughter of Conor, king of Thomond, and sister of Fingalla^
the fair-shouldered, who, as I have already told yon, was
.mainly instrumental in erecting our venerable house el

FRANCISCAN IfONASTEBIBS OV IBELAND. 83

Donegal. The spot which the princess of Breffny selected
for the building lies on the bank of the river Boned, within
an eKsy walk of the castle of Dromahere ; and, if we may
credit local tradition, St. Patrick erected a church on the
same site, which is still called Carrig-Phadruig, or Patrick's
Bock. The entire edifice, including altars, columns, and
chapter-room, was constructed of fine stone, resembling
grey marble ; and for its dimensions it was not inferior, as
regards architecture and elaborate sculpture, tp any other
house of our institute in Ireland. Owen O'Eourke erected
a monument for himself and his posterity within the chan-
cel ; and three years after the foundation-stone was laid,
Thomas MacBrady, bishop of Kilmore, attended by a
brilliant retinue of ecclesiastics and laics, consecrated the
church and monastery under the invocation of St. Francis.
The first friars who took possession of Creevelea were
sent from Donegal; for the princess Margaret, out of
afiection for her sjster, preferred those to whom ihe latter
had been such a constant and munificent benefactress.
The community, though small, was well-endowed by
the O'E/Ourke ; and as long as that princely family ruled
their ancient territory, the Franciscans of Creevelea lacked
nothing that could contribute to their peace and humble
maintenance. The princess Margaret died in 1512, and
was the first tenant of the splendid tomb erected by her
lord ; and he himself, after taking the habit of St. Francis,
was laid in the same sepulchre in 1528. It was, indeed, a
year remarkable for the decease of many of those to whom
our order is indebted; for in it our brotherhood had also to
bewail the loss of Fingalla, wife of 0'Donnell,who, after a life
spent in acts of charity, and after wearing our habit two-
and-twent.y years, passed out of this life to that everlasting
blessedness, which she so well merited by her fidelity to
Ood and our holy founder, St. Francis. Eight years
after the death of Owen O'Rourke, a sad misfortune befell
the conmmnity of Creevelea ; for, in the dead of night, when
the friars were asleep in their cells, a fire broke out — I
know not by what accident — and burnt down a goodly
portion of the edifice.

" It waS; indeed, a disastrous night ; for, along with the
loss of many valuable books, the commimity had also to
lament the aeath of Heremon O'Donnell, one of the brother-
hood, who perished in the flames whilst striving to save

84 THE ItIBB AND FALL OV TBE

the sacred vessels. Bryan Ballach O'Rourke, however,
Owen's successor, and father of Bryan-na-Murtha, of whom
I have already spoken, partially restored the sacred edifice ;
bat, owing to the constant wars in which he was engaged,
he was never able to fully repair the damage caused by the
fire. Nevertheless, the community continued to live uiere,
labouring, praying, and educating the youth of the district,
till they were expellecl from their venerable abode by sir
Richard Bingham, who, on more than one occasion, turned
the monastery and church into quarters for his soldiers,
pillaged the place, and burnt the richly-carved panels of
the choir for fuel. The fatal issue of the late war, and the
revolt of Teige O'Rourke, who, after the defeat at Kinsale,
as I have already told you, joined the enemies of his coun-
try, completed the rum of Creevelea; for he who would
have restored^ nay, renewed its beauty, now lies sleeping
his last sleep in the cloister of Rosserilly.*'

** And how fared it with that traitorous Teige f asked
father PurcelL

**As he deserved," replied the provincial; "for the
English, on the accession of James I., rewarded his recre-
ancy with the title of knight, and made him a grant of
some hundreds of acres in the ancient principality of Breffny.
He did not, however, live long to enjoy either title or landGs,
for he died in 1605, and was buried in the ancestral tomb
at Creevelea. May God assoil him ! for he hated his step-
brother, the rightfid prince of Brefifny, and would not rest
in the same sepulchre with him !"

" 'Tis a sad instance of fraternal discord," observed
father PurcelL

•* Only one of the many which wrought Ireland's ruin,
dear friend, " added the provincial. ' * Alas, to what excesses
will not ambition and sordid self-interest impel even the
hearts of brothers! Is it not Virgil who says of that
passion —

** * Ta potea nnanfmes annare in proelia fratrea * ?

and does not Lucan teU us in his *Pharsalia* that a brother's
blood shed by a brother's hand was the first to stain the
walls of Rome ?

** * Fraterno primi maduerunt sanguine muri.*
But why go beyond the inspired books for examples, when

FRANCISCAN MONASTERIJBS IN IRELAND. 85

we caa find them in the history of Jacob and Esau, of Abso-
lom and Ammon, and in that of Lisimachus and Mene-
laus?

" Trae, true," replied father Purcell ; "'tis the old story
of Eteocles and Polynices repeating itself. The ashes of
these two brothers, conscious of resentment to the last,
would not consume on the same pyre ; and perhaps— shall I
hazard the reflection ? — perhaps the bones of those O'Rourkes
would not crumble in peace had they been laid in the same

sepulchre —

" ' Fratnun quoque gratia rara est,*

as Ovid has it."

'* What an extravagant supposition !" remarked the pro-
vincial. ** But, instead of indulging such idle fancies, let us
pray that the Irish of future times, warned by the calami-
ties that have fallen upon their predecessors, will guard
against an accursed policy, which has worked out its worst
ends by sowing the seeds of dissension in hearts created
by God to struggle and combine for their country's hap-
piness.

** Little more remains to be said of Creevelea ; for when
Bryan, son of Teige the usurper, was summoned to London
in 1615, and told that he should allow his lands to be colo-
nized by English and IBcotch undertakers, he refused to
agree to such a proposal, and was then immured in the
tower, where he is at this monient. Bre£fny, meanwhile,
was parcelled out between Yilliers, duke of Buckingham,
and the Hamiltons, who scourged the native population
with a rod of iron. As for the monastery, it was leased to
one Harrison, who, in consideration of an annual and exor-
bitant rent, allowed the friars to coyer a portion of the
church with thatch, and themselves, now reduced to four
or five, to live as best they may in miserable shielings near
the ancient monastery. A truculent, grasping wretch is
this Harrison; for he no sooner discovered that peculiar
trait of the Irish character — I mean their hereditary love of
being interred in the graves of their forefathers, or within
the precincts of some hallowed ruin— than he erected a gate
at the entrance of the cemetery, and levied toll on every
corse that was brought to be buried there.'*

** A veritable Charon," observed father Purcell ; " who
will not allow the dead to cross the Stygian lake, till he
has received his piece of money 1"

86 THE RISE AND FALL 07 THE *

** Or rather one," replied the provincial, " who ignores
the virtues which recommended Tobias to the angel BaphaeL
We have talked far into the night; bo for the present
enough."

We may supplement Mooney's narrative, by stating that
Creevelea was repaired by the Franciscans in 1642, when
sir Owen O'Kourke made an attempt to recover the lordship
and lands of his ancestors ; but» at the close of the Crom-
wellian war, that family was once more involved in the
general confiscations. That some of the O'Kourkes, how-
ever, still clung to their natal soil is quite certain, as we
learn from the beautiful epitaph, which Teige O'Eoddy, of
Crossfield, co. Leitrim, composed for one of tiiem, who died
young, in 1671.

CONDITUR . EXIGUA . ROURE . HAC . BERNARDUS . IN . URNA

STIRPE . PERILLUSTRI . MENTE . LYRAQUE . LINUS

HIC . PUDOR . HIPPOLITI . PARIDIS . GENA . PECTUS . ULTSSIS

^NEAE . PIETAS . HECTORTS . IRA . JACET

FLOS . JUVENUM . SPLENDOR . PROAVUM . JUNII . IDIBUS

EHEUI
INTERirr . RUTILOS . VECTUS . AD . USQUE . POLOS

As for the friars, they continued to live in thatched cabins
in the neighbourhood of the monastery ; and be it recorded
to their honour, one of them taught, in 1718, the venerable
Charles O'Conor, of Belenagare, uie first rudiments of Latin,
as he himself tells us in his memoirs. At present Creevelea
is a very extensive ruin, containing, along with the tomb of
its founder, various fragments of monuments to the O'Mur-
roghs, Comins, and other ancient families of Breffny-
O'Kourke.

Although the foregoing paper closes the series which the
editor coUected from Father Mookey's manuscript, he
would deem his work incomplete if it did not comprise
an account of another Franciscan house, with which the
name of a highly distinguished Irishman is associated. A
brief notice, therefore, of the Olonmel Franciscan convent,
will not be unacceptable to our readers.

FRANCISCAN HONAfiTERIES IN IRBLANB. 87

CHAPTER VIII.

VBE MONASTEPY OF CLONMEL.

The monastery of St. Francis at Clonmelis justly ranked /
among the most splendid of the many houses belonging to '
that order in Ireland ; and even to the present day, a small /
community of the fnars retain a portion of their ancient/
church, "where they celebrate the divine mj^teries. The
history of its foundation is involved in obscurity ; for some
say that it owes its origin to the family of the Fitzgeralds .
of Desmond, whereas others afiSrm that it was founded by '
Otho de Grandison, who, in 1269, not only cave the friars a
considerable sum of money to erect the church, convent,
and its appurtenances, but also bestowed on it a rich tract of
land, sites for mUls, and two or three fishing weirs on the
Suir. At the dissolution of the monastic houses, that of
Clonmel shared the fate of all similar establishments in
the province of Munster ; for, by an inquisition taken 8th
of March, 31st king Henry VIII., it appears that the then

Kardian was seis^ of a church and steeple, dormitory,
U, three chambers, a store, kitchen, stable, two gardens
of one acre, together with four messuages,* six acres of
arable land, four garden, a fishing-pool and weir in Clon-
mel ; all of which was parcelled out, May 19th, 34th of
same kiiig, between the sovereign and commonalty of
Clonmel, and James, earl of Ormond, to be held for ever in
capUe by the said grantees, at a small annual rent.

i^evertheless, although the friars were dispossessed of
the lands, weirs, &c. , with which De Grandison had en-
dowed them, the inhabitants of Clonmel insisted on retain-
ing the church, cemetery, and sacristy, of which they held
possession in the year 1615, when father Mooney, then
provincial of the Franciscans, visited the place. To this
zealous friar, on whose valuable manuscriut notices of
the convents of his order we have heretofore drawn so
copiously, we are indebted for the following particulars
regarding the monastery of Clonmel. At the period of
his visitation, already specified, he found the cnurch in
good repair, llie architecture very magnificent, and nearly
all the requirements of a conventual establishment in as
good condition as if Heniy VIIL, Elizabeth, and other

88 TUX BTSX AND FALL OF THE

plunderers of the religious houses had never thought of
Clonmel. In fact, Mooney tells us, that the altar;) were still
standing in the church, and that in the centre of the choir
there was a very gorgeous monument, consisting of groups of
marble statues, to the memory of the lord baron of Cahir,
together with many other memorials of the same character,
to mark the last resting-place of the nobles who were wont
to bury within the sacred precincts. Father Mooney, how-
ever, says that he was greatly scandalized by the conduct
of some Jesuits and other ecclesiastics, who, in the ab«
Bonce of the Franciscans, allowed the remains of the Pro-
testant sovereign of Clonmel to be interred close by lord
Cahir's monument in the choir, and that he caused the
body to be exhumed in the night-time, and buried else-
where. This, he informs us, he did with the permission of
the archbishop of Cashel. At the period of father Moonev's
visitation, it would appear that the Jesuits and secular
clergy had possession of the conventual church, the former
alleging that they had got a grant of it from pope Paul V.,
and the latter supporting them in their pretensions; so
much so, that the citizens, acting under the influence of the
Jesuits and secular clergy, on two different occasions re-
fused to receive a community of Franciscans into their
townl The provincial, however, a very sturdy man, took
active measures to re-establish the claims of the brother-
hood ; and it was finally decided, by a papal rescript, that
they should take possession of their ancient chiurch, the
opposition of the Jesuits and secular clergy notwithstand-
ing. Father Mooneyes next effort was to cet back from
the representatives of the earl of Ormon(^ the original
grantee, some portion of the ancient endowments of the
monastery, but we need hardly say that he was unsnccessfuL
He insisted that the friars were entitled to the building
called the ** Aula Oomitis," or earl's palace, standing hard
by the monasteiy ; and that the fishmg-weir and mills on
ike Suir should be restored to them. But, despite all his
instances, he could get no redress from the heirs of lord
Ormond ; and the lands, mills, weirs, and fishing-pools were
escheated for ever from the friars. Of the * * Aiua Comitis, "
or earl's palace, we believe there has been no vestige
in the memory of the oldest inhabitant of Clonmel ; but
it may interest some to know that it stood within the pre-
eincta of the convent grounds, in Kilshelan-street, and was

FRANCISCAK MONASTEBIES' IS IBELAITD. 89

one of those edifices which some of the Irish nobility built
in the vicinity of religious houses, to serve them for a
temporary residence while going through a course of peni-
tential exercises.

In 1615, all the buildings of the convent, with the excep-
tion of the church and cloister, were entirely dilapidated ;
but the then earl of Ormond remodelled the infirmary, and
converted it into a dwelling-house, which was subse-
quently given as a marriage dowry to the lady Helen de
Barry, whose second husband was Thomas, earl of Somer-
set. Mooney petitioned to have this edifice given to the
Franciscans, but his memorial if as rejected, and the friars
were constrained to fix their abode in a house which they
rented. To this convent of Clonmel belonged a far-famed
statue of St. Francis, which father Mooney tells us wa9
rescued from the iconoclasts of the days of king Henry and
queen Elizabeth — a statue in presence of which no one
could commit perjury, without incurring the penalty of
sudden death, or, at all events, without having the whole
truth brought to light by a special interposition of heaven.
This statue or image was enshrined in the sacristy of the
church when father Mooney visited Clonmel ; and we
would suggest that some one should look after it, as it is
likely enough that a relic so venerated may be still in
existence, secreted somewhere in or about the remains of
the old monastery. To these meagre details regarding the
Franciscan convent of Clonmel, we have only to add what
father Mooney says of its site, namely, that it was most
happily chosen — picturesque and commanding, though built
inside the town wall, and in a comer of the city — in angulo
civitatia.

With this venerable edifice we must naturally associate
the memory of a highly distinguished Franciscan, of whom
his native land, and Clonmel in particular, may justly be
proud ; for, indeed, his voluminous writings, and the esteem
in which he was held by the celebrities of his day, must
always entitle him to our respect and veneration. How
very few of the many who frequent the little church of St.
Francis in Clonmel, ever think that more than two centuries
ago there lived a townsman of their own, who, when a mere
stripling, was wont to kneel and pray within the same hsd-
lowed precincts ; and who, in his maturer years, acquired a
world-wide renown as a profound metaphysician, theolo-

90 TRB BISX AND VALL OV THB

man, poet, ftnd hifitorian I And yet each of these attributes
nas been freelv accorded to a native of Clonmel, whose
nnmeroos and learned works are the clearest evidences, not
alone of a master mind, but of industry which has s^ldoiii
been equalled before or since the time in which he flourished.
Father Bonaventnre Baron, the individual to whom we
have been alluding, was bom in Clonmel early -in the
seventeenth century ; and after completing his preparatory
studies in that city, proceeded to Borne, probably m 1636,
just eleven years after his uncle, the celebrated Luke
Wadding, had founded the convent of S. Isidore for Irish
Franciscans. Wadding soon perceived that his sister's son
possessed grand abilities, which were destined to reflect
nonour on the order of which he himself was even then
foremost among the great ; and he accordingly resolved to
spare no pains in- forwarding the education of his kinsman
and prot^gd. Congeniality of tastes, and a never-wearying
love of research in the wide domain of history and specula-
tive science, endeared those ardent students to each other,
and caused them to concentrate all their energies on one

grand object, equally valued by both, namely, to revive the
terary glory of the Franciscans, and preserve from oblivion
the memories of the great men of the same body, who con-
ferred such si^;nal service on mankind during that long
and dismal period when knowledge and civilization could
find no biding-place outside the cloister.

It would be superfluous to recount all that Wadding
achieved in this wonderful self-imposed task, of which he
has left us so many valuable monuments, evidencing genius
of the highest oilier, and industry which ehallen^d the
encomiums of sir James Ware, who, his Protestantism not-
withstanding, could appreciate such gigantic labours,
amounting to thirteen or fourteen tomes, eight of which
(the Annals) are large folio, to say nothing of other works
which this great Irishman projected. As for Baron, it
would appear that he had made up his mind to rival his pre-
ceptor and kinsman ; and, indeed, it may be said that in
some respects the pupil outstripped the teacher in the
ra])idity with which he produced some of his earliest works.
Considering the various duties that devolved on him after
his ordination, when he was appointed to teach theology
in the school of S. Isidore, ana discharge other offices con«
nected with that establishment, we cannot but wonder how

VRAirCISCAN H0KA8TEBIES W IRELAND. 91

one man could have written so mnch, so learnedly, and on
such a variety of topics, before he had yet hardly passed
that period which Dante calls the mid-term of life. And
yet such is the fact ; for we have it on the authority of
father Waddine himself, that his nephew had actually written
in Latin, singularly remarkable for its elegance, some five or
six volumes, while he was yet considerably under thirty-
three years of age. The titles of some of these works,
itrange as they must ap^^ear in an English translation, will
fthow how versatile was the genius of this eminent man,
Jtnd with what facility he could turn from the profounder
pursuit of studies philosophical and theological, to the culti-
vation of the muses, and, indeed, of almost every depart-
ment of light literature. The dates, too, of some of his
numerous publications, will prove what we have already
asserted, namely, that his industry was indefatigable, and,
we might almost say, unequalled. Thus, the *' Panegyrical
Orations," the first volume which he published at Kome,
in 1643, was, two years afterwards, foUowed by his *' Mis-
cellaneous Poems, including Epigrams and Euloginms of
Eminent Men." In 1651 he edited his ** Philosophical
Essays ;" and in the same year " The Diatribe on Silence^"
or " Harpocrates Quinqueludius," — a work in which he dis-
plays an extensive knowledge of all the ancient systems of
philosophy, and profound acquaintance with the writings
of the most celebrated of the Christian apologists in the
early ages. In fact, it would seem as if the energies^ of
this wonderful man never flagged— that his active mind
needed no relaxation ; for not only the printing-presses of
Rome, but those of Paris, Lyons, Florence, W urtzburg,
and Cologne found ample employment from his pen, which,
at intervals of two, three. Or more years, giave to the world
no less than six volumes, three of which are large folio, de-
voted to theological and philosophical controversies, and a
vindication of that great luminary of the fourteenth cen-
tury. Duns Scotus, or the Subtile Doctor, he, too, a Fran-
ciscan, the fame of whose learning drew together upwards
of thirty thousand students to Oxford, when he taught iii
that university. Besides the works we have already speci-
fied, father Baron wrote a "Course of Theology," in six
tomes ; and, towards the close of his life, he published, at
Bome, the first volume (folio) of the '* Annals of the Order
of the Most Holy Trinity for the Redemption of Captives^**

92' THK PJSE AND TALL 07 THE

commencing with the vear 1198, and carrying it down to
1267. This remarkable work narrates the foundation of
the various houses of the order, and, alon^ with biographies
of its most eminent men, gives interesting details oi the
number of captives rescued from the horrors of Saracen
bondage, by ^e heroic charity of a single brotherhood,
who, in their day, rendered signal services to their fellow-
men. Father Baron proposed to himself to continue this
history down to his own times ; \^t, growing feeble and
blind, after expending such an amount of vitality on the
works we have enumerated, he was obliged to renounce
the pen towards the close of the year 1686. The remaining
ten years of his life were for him a series of creat bodily
infirmities, rendered all the more painful by the total loss
of sight, til], at length, after having spent over sixty years
in Rome, he died, at a great old age, in the convent of S.
Isidore, and was buried near the grave of Luke Wadding,
in 1696.

The respect in which this native of Clonmel was held by
the great men of his period, was such that he might well be
proud of it, if a heart like his could find place for self-
esteem ; but he was above all such petty weaknesses, and
cared more for the honour of his order than he did for lus
own glorification. Nevertheless, the criticisms of his great
contemporaries pronounced him to be "a man among men,"
and a writer who deserved to occupy a niche in the temple
of fame. As volume after volume came from his pen, me
reviewers hailed them, each and all, with most respectful

£ raise ; and among those who were foremost in lauding the
kbours of the Clonmel friar, we find a countiyman of his
own, Keal O'Glacan, a native of Donegal, who professed
medicine in the universities of Toulouse and Bologna,
wrote a **Cursus Medicns,'' and other works on cognate
subjects, and was finally appointed physician and privy
counsellor to the king of France. As for father Baron, he,
too, had honours bestowed on him by another potentate ;
for Cosmo III., erand duke of Tuscany, elected nim before
all others to fill the envied place of historiographer to
his court. This brief biography of such a distinguished
IriRhman may obtain some adcUtional interest from a de-
scription of his portrait, which, along with that of the
^;reat Wadding, and some other Irish celebrities of his era,
18 before us as we write. The picture in our possession

FRANCISCAN MOKASTSBIES IN IRELAND. 93

represents him in his fifty-second year, dressed in the habit
of his order, resting his left hand on a ponderous folio, and
holding a pen in his right. ' His features are very benevo-
lent ; the nose inclining to aquiline ; the eyes clear and
penetrating ; the mouth firm, ivithdeep lines at the angles ;
and knitted brows, so characteristic of those who think
much, and give the brain little rest. As for the head,
like that of Wadding, it is large, domelike, and, with the
exception of a few scattered hairs above the temples, bald ;
in a word, such a one as denotes a man of great intellect
and indomitable energy.

THE

IRISH HIERARCHY

a

THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

CHAPTER L

On Monday, the 22Qd of October, 1645, an armed frigate,
with the '* fleur-de-lis " flying at the main, and carrying at
her prow a gilded figure-head of St. Peter, dropped anchor
at tne mouth of Kenmare river, not far from the point
where it falls into the bay to which it gives its name. Soon
afterwards a boat was seen pulling shoreward ; and a few
shepherds, who were attracted to the beach by the sight
of the large ship^ could easily discern that the party ap-
proaching were strangers, and that one among them was a
personage of high distinction, an ecclesiastic dressed in
costume with which they were not familiar, accompanied
by a retinue of twenty-six individuals, whose garb and
features left no doubt that they too were natives of a
foreign clime. Scarcely had the boat touched land, when
the whole party proceeded t<^ a shieling, which the shep-
herds had erected to protect them from the inclemency of
the weather, and set about preparing for the celebration of
Mass. 'It was the feast of St. Philip, bishop of Fermo, an
episcopal city in the pontifical states ; and he who now
robed himself for the holy sacrifice was John Baptist
Binuccini, bishop of that see, and nunzio-extraordinary,
sent by InXocent X. to the Irish Catholics, then in arms
for their king, religion, and country. Good reason had
Rinuccini to be grateful to Grod for liaving enabled him to
reach the shores of Munster in safety ; for, indeed, the
frigate in which he sailed was nigh falling into the hands
of one Plunket, a renegade Irishman, who commanded the
parliament squadron, then cruising in the Irish channel,

THE IBISH HISRABGHY^KTC. 95

and pursued the St. Peter with two of his vessels fully
a hundred miles, till a fire breaking out in the galley of
his own ship, compelled him to shorten sail and abandon
the chase. It is certain that the nunzio's frigate would
have shown fight had she come within range of Flunket^s
guns, for he tells us that the St. Peter's carronades were
cast loose and shotted, and that the Irish, most of whom
were soldiers and officers who had fought in the
Netherlands, under Preste^i and O'Neill, and were now
returning home te serve in the confederate ranks, declared
that they would rather die in action and be buried in the
sea, than fall into the hands of the fanatical Puritans, from
whom they could expect no quarter. The chances, indeed,
were aU against the St. Peter, for Plunket*s frigate carried
heavier metal, had a larger number of hands, and was in
every respect better equipped for emergencies. The fire^
however, on board the parliament vessel saved the nunzio,
who, like his retinue, was already half -dead of sea-sickness,
from becoming a prize te Plunket ; and we can easily ima-
gine how the latter cursed the accident that caused him to
K>se the St. Peter, with its rich freight of gold and silver,
arms and ammunition, destined for the use of the confede-
rated Irish Catholics, to say nothing of the person of the
pope's nunzio, who, had his own f orecastings been realized,
should of necessity have resigned his high function for a
prison in the tower of London. Kinuccini attributed hia
escape to the special guardianship of him whose image de-
corated the prow of his frigate ; but, be that as it may,
the fire in Plunket's cookmg galley will account for it
proximately.

Having celebrated Mass of thanksgiving in the shielinff,
the nunzio had a large portion of the arms and ammuni-
tion and all the money brought ashore ; and finding no safe
place for storage nearer or more secure than the old castle
of Ardtully, he converted it into a temporary magazine,
and then ordered the St. Peter to weigh for Waterford, and
dischiurge the residue of the freight in that friendly haven.
The wind, however, proving contrary, the vessel had to
make for Dingle, where the arms were landed, and soon
afterwards sent to Limerick, in order to save them from
the enemies of the confederates, who, by way of retaliation
for not having Rinuccini himself in person, were intent on
seizing them. After remaining two days in the shepherdif

THE IBISH HIERAItCHT INT

httt, the nniLzio proceeded by slow marches to Limerick,
keeping clear of the high roads, and escorted by squadrons
of confederate cavalry, commanded by Richard Butler,
brother of the marquis of Ormond, who was specially ap-
pointed to that duty as soon as Bellings, secretary to the
supreme council, had announced his arrival in Ireland.

On the last day of October, 1645, Kinuccini entered the
city of Limerick, at whose gate he was met by the clergy,
the municipal and military authorities, who, in solemn pro-
cession, preceded him to the ancient cathedral, where Richard
Arthur, bishop of the see, awaited his arrival. The
venerable prelate, then far advanced in years, and in
broken health, was habited in rich pontificals ; and the
nunzio, familiar as he was in his own country with all that
is gorgeous in church costume, could not but admire the
splenmd crozier and mitre which Arthur used in the
solemn function of receiving the pope's ambassador on the
threshold of his metropolitan church.

So highly appreciated at that period were the mitre and
crozier of Limerick, made for Cornelius O'Dea, bishop of
the see in 1418, that they were generally supposed to have
been the work of some celestial artiticer, and not of mortal
. hands ; *'for," ran the legend popularly believed at that
time, '*on one occasion, 'v^en there was a synod of prelates
in Dublin, it so happened that the bishop of Limerick went
thither without his pontificals, and was compelled to seek
throughout the metropolis a crozier and mitre. At length,
when Jie had given up all hope of getting either, a youth,
just landed from a ship which a few moments before had
entered the harbour, approached and presented the bishop
a case, in which he told him he would find what he was
looking for, adding that if he liked them he might keep
them. The bishop could not but like the rich silver crozier
and excj^uisitely elaborated mitre ; and when he erent a mes-
senger in hot haste after the stranger to pay whatever
he might demand for such precious objects, lo I the ship
had weighed anchor, and vanished beyond the horizon !
The mitre," says the authority from which the legend
is quoted, '*was entrusted to a wealthy Catholic mer-
chant, to keep it from falling into the hands of the re-
formers ; but he abstracted some of its precious stones, and
replaced them with false ones — a sacrilege which heaven
4venged on his posterity, for they all died in misery. " To

THE SEVENTEENTH CENTUEY. 07

return to the venerable prelate, who, as we have already
said, was then aged and in failing health, we may observe
that he belonged to a family which had already given a
prelate to the see of Limerick, at the close of the fifteenth
century ; and that his near kinsman, James Arthur, a Do-
minican friar, and author of a ''Commentary on the Works
of St. Thomas Aquinas, " was then acquiring world-wide
renown in Spain and Portugal, where he taught divinity
in various schools of his order.

We have thus briefly alluded to Richard Arthur, because
he did not live to take a prominent part in the momentous
transactions which followed the nunzio's arrival in Ireland.
It will not, however, be out of place to state, that he was
consecrated by David Rothe, bishop of Ossoryi* on the 7th
September, 1623, the bishop of Uork and Luke Archer,
abbot of Holy Cross, assisting at the ceremony ; and that
he died on the 23rd May, 1646, and was buried in the
tomb of his predecessors, m his own eathedral of limerick,
then recently restored to the uses of that religion for which
it was erected. Let us, moreover, mention, as one of the
most memorable incidents in this prelate*s life, that it was
he who conferred priest's orders on the celebrated John
Lynch, LuciiLS Oratianus, author of "CambrensisE versus,"
"Icon Antistitis," "AJithinologia," and other works by
which that distin^shed Irish ecclesiastic has attained
imperishable celebrity.

The prelate who was destined to succeed Richard Arthur,
and to occupy a much larger space in the history of his un-
fortunate country, was Edmond O^Dwyer, a native of the
county of Limerick, who had distinguished himself during
his collegiate course at Rouen, where he studied philosophy,
and at the Sorbonne, where he won character for profound
knowledge of theology. Soon after obtaining the degree of
doctor in divinity at Rheims, he returned to Ireland, and
became acquainted with Malachy O'Queely, then vicar*
apostolic of Killaloe ; and, as we shall see, the intimacy thus
formed at the commencement of O'Dwyer's missionary
career, ripened into a warm friendship, which terminatea
only with the life of the former, many years after he had
been promoted to the archiepiscopal see of Tuam. In fact»
such was the archbishop's confidence in O'Dwver, that he
sent him to Rome as his proctor, in 1644, and made him
ihe bearer of a report on th» state of his diocese, which bo

9B THE IRISH HIBBARCHT VX

drew up for the Congregation de Propaganda Fide. Alons
with this valuable document, O'Bwyer was entrusted
with a memorial to the supreme council of the confede-
rates, praving his holiness, Urban VIII., to bestow a
cardinal*s hat on Luke Wadding, in consideration of the
great services he had rendered to the Irish Catholics then
inarms. Urban, however, died before O'Dwyer reached
Home ; and the memorial, signed by O'Queely, Walsh, arch*
bishop of Cashel ; Fleming, archbishop of Dublin ; lords
Castlehaven, Fermoy, Netterville, and others, fell into the
hands of father Luke, who, instead of having it presented
to Innocent X., the late pontiff's successor, modestly buried
it in the archives of S. Isidore, where it remains to the
present day. The high opinion which the supreme council
entertained of O'Dwyer, whom they styled in their me-
morial a *' doctor of divinity, and an ocular witness of
their proceedings," to say nothing of the commendations
of archbishop O Queely, must have had great weight with
the college of cardinals ; for, on reaching Paris, on his way
to Ireland, after some months' sojourn in Rome, a bull was
despatched to the French nunzio, nominating the Irish
priest coadjutor to the then decrepit bishop of limerick.
O'Dwyer made no difficulty about accepting the exalted
dignity which the holy see conferred on him, and he was
therefore duly consecrated by the bishop of Senlis, in the
church of St. Lazare, on Sunday, the 7tn of May, 1645.

Having purchased a goodly supply of vestments, books,
and other requirements for the diocese of Limerick,
O'Dwyer set out for Ireland from one of the French ports ;
but he had not been many days at sea when the ship in
which he sailed was captured by a Turkish corsair, who
carried him and his fellow- passengers as a prize to Smyrna.
The bishop, however, when he saw that there was no
chance of escaping the pirate, divested himself of all .the
decorations of his rank, and heaved overboard the valuable
vestments and other sacred objects which he had cpUected
at Paris, and which he knew would be desecrated had the
Turks got possession of them. On reaching Smyrna he
was sold as a slave, and condemned to work at a mill, with
% mask on his face ; and in this condition he might have
lived and died, were, it not for a contingency which seems
almost miraculous. An Irish lady, wife of a French
merchant, then living at Smyrna^ happened to visit the

THE SEVENTEENTH CBNTDRT. 99

mill ; and on discovering that the poor captive was a country-
man of her own, and a bishop in reluctant disguise, she
lost no time in reporting the fact to her husband, who at
once paid a ransom for the prisoner, and sent him back to
France, where he soon replaced the sacred farniture which
he had flimg into the sea, as we have already stated.
O'Dwyer returned to Ireland early in the year 1646 ; and
he was the first bishop who introduced the missionaries of
Vincent de Paul to this country. As a matter of course,
he joined th« supreme council of the confederates as
spiritual peer ; and in that capacity secured for himself the
esteem of the pope^s nunzio, who, in one of his earliest
despatches, speaks of him in the highest ))raise. Another
letter, dated Limerick, July 16, 1646, and addressed by
the same personage to cardinal Paniilio, mentions the
bishop of Limerick taking part in the grand function
solemnized in his cathedral, in thanksgiving for the memo-
rable victory which Owen O'Neill won at Benbnrb, on the
6th of the preceding month. ** At four o'clock, p.m.,"
writes the nunzio, *' the procession moved from the church
of St. Francis, where the thirty-two stands of colours
taken from the Scotch had been deposited. The garrison
of Limerick led the van, and the captured colours were
carried by the nobility of the city. Then followed the
nunzio, the archbishop of Oashel, the bishops of Limerick,
of Olonfert, and Ardfert, and after them the supreme coun-
cil, the mayor, and magistrates, in their official robes. The
people crowded the streets and windows ; and as soon as
the procession reached the cathedral, Te Deum was snnff
by the nuuzio's choir, and the latter pronounced the usuiS
prayers, concluding the ceremony with solemn benediction.
Next morning Mass j^o gratiarum actione was sung by the
dean of Fermo, in presence of the aforesaid bishops and
magistrates."

It might, perhaps, have been fortunate for O'Dwyer
to have died at that hour of his country's tray lient tri-
umph ; but, as we shall see, he was doomed to ti.jte bitter-
ness and sorrow, at home and abroad, and to find his last
resting-place far away from the old cathedral where his
predecessors were entombed. Pious and zealous he was,
no doubt, in the discharge of his high office, and none could

gainsay the holiness of his life ; but, when the fortunes of
lie confederates waned, ha unhappily proved himself in

100 THB IRISH HIERARCHY IN

the politics of the period weak and vacillating. His con-
duct will not suffer us to doubt this ; for, instead of adopt-
ing Kinuccini's bold and honest policy, which spumed mere
toleration of the Catholic religion, he allowed himself to be
duped by the artifices of the lay members of the supreme
council, most uf whom were identified, either by blood or jtar-
tizanship, with the crafty enemy of their creed and rase —
James, marquis of Ormond. In fact, the bishop, with several
others of his own order, allied himself to Ormond's faction,
signed the fatal truce with lord Inchiquin, and thus deserted
the straightforward course which Kinuccini and the old
Irish strove to maintain. ** For the last eighteen months,''
writes the nunzio, in 1648, **the bishop of Limerick, to my
utter amazement, and that of every one else, has devoted
himself to the party of lord Omiond ; and this, indeed, is
a sorry return for the benefits bestowed on him by the holy
see ; but he has had his reward ; for he is now the object
of universal odium, and has separated himself from the
sound politics of the rest of the clergy.'' Six months had
hardly elapsed since these words were penned, when
Einuccini, finding it impossible to harmonize the adverse
factions which he strove to govern, or to bring about a
solidarity of interests for the general good, deemed it no
cessary to abandon a country whose feuds were precipitat-
ing it to irretrievable ruin. For some, the last and direst
weapon in the Church's armoury had no terror ; and,
unhappily for O'Dwyer, he was one of the few bishops who,
despite the nimzio's censures, foolishly adhered to the
jwrty of lord Ormond. With the theological controversies
that agitated Ireland after the nunzio's departure, tonchiDg
the censures, in all of which O'Dwyer took a prominent
part, we have nothing to do in this paper, our object being
simply to give an outline of his eventful life, till its close
in a foreign land. Pretermitting, therefore, much that
could not interest the general reader, we may state to the
bishop's credit, that during those awful months when
Ireton beleaguered Limerick from without, and pestilence
swept off the famished population within the walls, there waai
no braver man among the besieged than their spiritual chief.
He exhorted the inhabitants to hold out to the last extre-^
mity, and lay down their lives rather than yield to the
lieutenant of the m;in who could show no mercy either at
Drogheda or in Weuord. Fully conscious of the doom that

THE SEVKNTEBNTH CENTTTRY. 101

awaited micli gallant resistance, a multitude of the citizens
called onthe oishop, and besought him to give them per-
mission to blow themselves up, rather than fall alive into the
hands of their enemies ; but he dissuaded them from such
% suicidal project, telling them that it was nobler to die
with arms in their hands, than to rush, uncalled, into the
awful presence of God. At last, when Limerick was
forced to capitulate to Ireton, who was indebted for his
success to the treason of one of Kinuccini's most impla-
cable enemies, O'Dwyer, finding that he was excepted from
quarter, disguised himself in 'i^easant's garb, and having
smeared his face with gunpowder, passed unnoticed through
one of the city gates, and eventually contrived to make
his way to Brussels, where he lived till 1654, eating the
sally bread of exile, and, as we may suppose, regretting,
with his latest sigh, the fatal error that helped to bring
ruin on his unfortunate country. On the night of the 6th
of April, 1654, his remains, followed by a few torch-
bearers, were conveyed from the convent in which he
breathed his last, to the church of St. James, in the above-
named city, and were there deposited in the subterranean
chapel, de<licated to the Blessed Virgin, without a single
line to recsrd his virtues or his failings. A career such as
his, under other circumstances, would surely have been
thought worthy an epitaph — ^that last of human vanities ;
but the nocturnal funeral, divested of all ghastly pomp,
and the nameless grave, will be sufficiently accounted for
by the nunzio^s censures.

In accordance with the plan we proposed to ourselves
when commencing these notices of some of the most dis-
tinguished Irish prelates of the seventeenth centviry, we
now return to the venerable cathedral of Limerick, where
we left Kinuccini receiving from bishop Arthur all the
honours prescribed by the ntual for so solemn an occasion
as that when the pope's accredited ambassador makes his
first appearance in a town or city. A few days had hardly
passed since that memorable event, when news reached the
^unzio that the most distinguished of the Irish archbishops,
the one in whom, accoiding to his instructions, he was to
repose most confidence, ana whom he was to consult on all
occasions of great moment, had been slain in an inglorious
skirmish near Ballysadare, in the county Sligo. Sad intel-
ligence, indeed, was this for Rinuccini at the outset of his

102 THE IRISH HUEBARCHT USf

diplomatic career ; and we can easily imagine how the joy
with which his arrival was greeted in Limerick mnst have
been dashed when he fonnd himself called upon to celebrate
the obsequies of Malachy O^Queely, archbishop of Tuam,
in that very cathedral where, a few days previously, his
band of Italian choristers chanted Te Veum, in pre-
sence of a vast multitude, who never before had listened to
such thrilling harmony. All the festive adornments of the
cathedral were now replaced with mournful emblems, the
altars and columns draped in black ; and the nunzio,
assisted by the aged Arthur, sane Mass of requiem for the
heroic soid of the metropolitan of Connaught, whom he was
not destined to meet in this world. Having left Limerick
a few days afterwards, Einuccini caused the same honours
to be paid to the deceased archbishop in St. Canice's cathe-
dral, Kilkenny, about the middle of November, 1645, when
all Ireland was plunged in grief for the loss of such an
illustrious champion S. her faith.

Malachy O'Qneely, son of Donatns, was a native of the
county Clare, and lineally descended from the lords of Con-
macne«mara, where they ruled as princes long before and
after the Anglo-Norman invasion. A chieftain of this
race marched with "Bnen. Bommha to Glontarf, in 1014,
and centuries afterwards the name was famous in baordio
story —

** Over ConTnacne-mara great
Wa« OX'adhla, fiiend of banqvets.**

Malachy, when a mere youth, went to Paris, where he
studied in the college of Navarre> and took the degree of
doctor in divinity. On his return to Ireland,- he- was ap-
pointed* vicar-apostolic of Killaloe, and ultimately, on
October 11, 1631, was, by Thomas Walsh, archbishop of
Cashel, consecrated successor to . Florence. Conry in the
archiepiscopal see of Tuam. The prelates who - assisted oki
this occasion were Richard Arthur, of Limerick, and
BoetiuB £!gan, of Eli^in ;- and the ceremony took place at
Galway. A curious incident, which we may not omit to
mention, occurred on the day named for O'Queely's conse-
cration. The archbishop elect had received . from Home a
draft of the bull nominating him to the vacant see ; and on
presenting it to the officiating prelate, the latter, after de-
murring some time, finally refused to proceed with the
ceremony, till the autograph instrument should be sub-

THE BBVUrnEKNTH GXNTUBT. 103

mitfced to hiB seratiny. It was a moment of great embar-
rassment for all the parties concerned ; and as tiiev wera
about to retire from tne church, a priest, who landed from
a ship which had just then dropped anchor in the bay,
mshed into their presence^ and handed to Arthur l£e
aathentic bulls. In 1632, the year immediately following
his elevation, O'Queely presided at a synod in Galway, for
removing abuses and enforcing the decrees of the coundl
of Trent ; and in the interval between the last-named period
and the rising of 1641, he devoted himself with singular
seal to the discharge of his high office, consoling and en-
lightening the flock committed to his charge, uien sadly
harassed by the tyrannical proceedings of lord-deputy
Strafford. Nor should we omit to state that O'Queely^
appointment to Tuam was at first badly received by me
province over which he was named chief pastor, many al«
leging that none but. a native of Conuaueht ought to have
b^n raised to the archiepiscopal see ; but in proo-ess of
time his generosity and oj^n-heartedness silenced &e mal-
contents, and won for him the esteem and love of all
c^ses. In 1641, when the |)eople rose to shake off the
intolerable oppression under which they had so long groaned,
(VQueely took his place among them, not indeed as a
military chief, but rather with a view to repress tumul-
tuary assaults, and save the Protestant portion of the com-
munity from pillage and insult. For this laudable object
he raised a regiment, which was officered by the O'Flaher-
ties and others of the Oonnaught gentry, whose zeal for
their religion and the false-hearted Charles I. was crowned
with a temporary triumph, though sadly requited bv the
son and successor of that unhappy monarch. In all the
transactions of the confederates, O'Queely, then president
of Gonnaught, was regarded as a high authority, and not
only by them but by the court of Rome ; for, as we have
already observed, uie instructions eiven to Rinuccini by
Innocent X. marked out t^ie archbisnop as the fittest per-
son for his guidance. " Although each of the four arch-
bishops,'* says the document, *' is remarkable for zeal,
nevertheless, he of Tuam is to be your confidant, and
among the bishops he of Clogher.'* The last appearance of
0*QuMly in the genend assembly at Kilkenny was in
October, 1645, the month of the nunzio's arrival in Ireland,
and the same in which the ferocious Cooto was appointed

104 THE IRISH HIERABCHT IN

by tlie parliament president of Connanght, with a com-
mission'** to extirpate the Irish papists by lire and sword."
Sligo, at that time, bad fallen into the hands of the Scotch
Covenanters ; and the supreme council of the confederates,
wishing to possess a seaport which enabled their enemies
to land men and munitions of war, resolved to recover it if
possible. As a spiritual peer, O^Queely voted supplies for
the undertaking, and immediately set out with the forces
destined for the expedition, which was conimanded by lord
Taaffe and sir James Dillon. On leaving Kilkenny, the
archbishop's mind was overclouded by sinister omens ; and
he not only removed all his baggage, but bade adieu to
each of his friends, telling them that he was destined never
to see them again. On crossing the Shannon, he was met
by a vast concourse of the people, who came to look their
last on him ; for there was then rife among them an old
prophecy concerning the violent death of one of St. Jarlath*s
successors, and it was popularly believed that the prediction
was to be fulfilled in the person of 0*Queely. Indeed, he
himself seems to have given it credit ; for, a few years before,
while being punctured for a dropsical affection, he told
doctor Nicholson, his medical attendant, that tJie prophecy
was to be fulfilled in him, and that he had not long to live.
The nunzio, too, in his despatches, alludes to the prediction,
remarking that the Irish were much given to the ** folly of
prophesying." On Sunday, 17th October, 1645, the Irish
troops encamped in the vicinity of Ballysadare; and so
confident were Taaffe and Dillon of the safety of their
position, that they accepted on that fatal day an invitation
to dine with the archbishop, who, always proverbial for
hospitality, had also asked all the other ofiBlcers to his
table. It was during this merrymaking that sir Charles
Coote, sir William Cole, and sir Francis Hamilton, had
intelligence of the loose discipline observable in the confe-
derate camp; and taking advantage of the information, they
swooped down unexpectedly with a large force, and before
the Irish could arm themselves, put them to flight, and cut '
them up fearfully. In this extremity Dillon told the arch*
bishop to save himself as best he could ; but being obew
and of great atature, he lacked the necessary speed - His
faithful secretary, father Thady O'Connell, of the order of
Hermits of St. Augustine, and another priest, lost their
lives endeavouring to protect him from the Scotcli, who^

THE SSYENTEENTH CSNTUBT. 105

Ij^orant of the prize they had within their grasp, hewed
ium to pieces with their claymores after wounding him
with a pistol shot in the loins. The list of prisoners made <'' ,
m this sad raid shows that the archbishop was accompanied ;
ti^ some of the foremost men in Connaught ; fon. it men-
tions, among others, Murragh-na-do, O'Mahertie^ William. ^ '
O^Shaughnessy, and captain Garrett Dillon, son to sir Lucao .
Dillon, who stated that his father was shot in the thigh.
Intelligence of this unfortunate event, which the Puritans
styled *' Good News from Ireland," was immediately for-
warded to both houses of parliament, and that very quaint
bulletin tells us that '* the Irish forces amounted to 1,000
foot, and 300 horse. In the pursuit," says the writer,
'* their commander and president of that province was
slain, the titular archbishop of Tuam, who was a principal
ajgent in these wars. Divers papers were found in his car-
riage. He had for his own particular use an order from the
council at Kilkenny for levying the arrears of his bishopric,
and the pope^s bull and letter from Home. The pope would
not at first engage himself for the sendine of a nunzio for
Ireland, until the Irish agents had fully persuaded him
that the re-estabHshment of the Catholic religion was a ^ /
thing feasible in this kingdom ; whereupon he undertook ^<
the solicitation of their cause with Florence, Venice, and
other estates, and to delegate his nunzio to attend to the »
affairs of this kingdom." In the archbishop's baggage was , ^ ^
found the private treaty which Charles I. empowered lord v
Glamorgan to negotiate with the confederates ; and the dis-
covery of this important document, we need hardly say,
helped to exasperate the Puritans against the unfortunate
king.

As soon as the Scotch discovered the high rank of the ' S
individual whose mutilated corse was left on the road- side,
they demanded a sum of thirty pounds before surrendering
it ; and when the money was paid by Walter Lynch, he V
caused the remains to be dressed in pontifical robes and
conveyed to Tuam, where Mass for the deceased was duly
celebrated in presence of a vast crowd, who bitterly
lamented their well-loved archbishop. Unfortunately,
there is now no record of the place of O'Queely's inter-
ment ; but we have it, on the authority of one who was
personally ac<][uainted with him, that some years after his
decease^. Bjigid, lady Athenry, wife of Francis, 19th lord

106 THK IRISH HIBBABCHT Uf

of that title, and ^uehter of gir Lucas Dillon, of loagh
Glynn, in the conntv BiDSOommon, caused all that remained
of the archbishop to be reinterred in some place only known
to herself and tiie pious few who were employed to oer-
form that charitable work. There is little to be said of
O'Queely's literary tastes or labours ; but we may state
tiiat they were appreciated by John Oolsan, who was in-
debted to him for the ** Description of the Three Islands
of Arran and their Churches," which the learned Francis*
can published in his '* Acta Sanctorum Hib.," p. 714^
This valuable communication, and a description of the
churches and other sacred edifices in the diocese of Tuam,
must have been compiled by the archbishop a short time
previous to his death. Lamented by every lover of his
country, none could have been more keenly sensible of his
loss tlian the nunzio, who, in his despatches to cardinal
Panfilio, speaks of him in most pathetic terms ; assertinff
that he had lost his life in actoal defence of the faith, and
that the supreme council had thus sustained a terrible
calamity, as no one could be ^ound competent to replace
such a prelate either in the civil or the military depart-
ment. *' Verily,*' concludes the nunzio, *'he has closed
his career gloriously, and won for himself in heaven a re-
ward commensurate with his labours." In concluding this
brief memoir, we have only to add, that Edmond 0*Meara,
M.D., who venerated the archbishop's noble character, and
would have erected a monument to him had he known
where his remains lay, has left us the subjoined epitaph,
hoping, perhaps, that it might one day be inscribed on ms
friend's tomb, should some fortunate accident ever dear^
away the mystery that surrounds the forgotten grave.

PRfiSULIS . HIC . MULTO . LANIATUM . VULNEBE . CORPUS

CANITIESQUE . SACRO . SANGUINE . SPARSA . JACET

PRO . REGE . NON. RENUIT . VITAM . PROFUNDERE . PASTOR

QUAM . BENE . PASTOREM . MORS . ISTA . DECET . BONUM

PURPUREI . FULGETE . PATRES . IN . MUBICE . SANGUIS

PULCHKIUS . HIC . VESTRI . MURICIS . IGNE . BURET

THB SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 107

CHA1>TER II.

On the 2lst November, 1645, Rinnccini, after a few days'
repose in the residence which the confederates appointed
for him at Elilkenny, proceeded on foot to pay a formal
visit to lord Mountgarrett, then president of the council,
who, to do the pope^s minister greater honour, had arranged
that the reception should take place in the grand gallery
of the ancient castle of the Ormonds. On this occasion he
was accompanied by general Preston, lord Muskerry, and
other distinguished personages, who, doubtless, were
anxious to witness the interview, and learn what hopes
they might entertain of succour from abroad, for prosecut-
ing the war against the king's enemies. At foot of the grand
staircase he was met by Thomas Walsh, archbishop of
Cashel, Thomas Fleming, archbishop of Dublin, and Heber
MacMahon, bishop of Ologher ; who, after mutual congratu-
lations, ascended the staiis, and were then ushered, by si.
Richard Bellings, into the presence of the lord^president.
The latter was seated at the head of the gallery ; but, when
the nunzio appeared, he stood up, witnout, however, ad-
vancing a single step ; and as soon as the ceremony of
presentation was over, he motioned the pope's high minis-
ter to a chair, covered with gold and- crimson damask, at
his right, but so placed that Neither of them could be said
to be the central figure. Rinuccini then handed his cre-
dentials to the presidcDt, who caused the document to be read
aloud ; and when this was conduded, the former addressed
all present in Latin, stating that the grand object of his
mission was to maintain the rights of the Catholics, to promote
union of parties, and to assist the king in his struggle with
Hhe parliammit. At the conclusion of his speech, he gave
them all the apostolic blessing ; and after a few wor£ in
reply, spoken by MacMahon, bishop of Glogher, he took
leave oi the president and retired, the bishops accom-
panying him as far as the grand entrance of the castle, and
Preston, Muskerry, and others to the saloon of his own
domicile, which was now distinguished by the insiffuia of
his nunciature — a shield surmounted by the papal tiara
and keys, with a dove holding in its beak an olive-
branch. The reception, indeed, was cold and rigidly
lonnali aad Rinuccini must have remarked that Mouns^

108 THE IBISH HIiUtARCHT IN

garretti although a Catholic, would have been much
better pleased had he come from the pope in any other
capacity than that of nunzio. Be that as it might, he was
agreeably impressed by the magnificence of the callery in
which the introduction took place ; and, althonch familiar
with grander structures in his own country, where archi-
tecture, sculpture, and painting had reached their apogee,
he did not allow this little incident to pass unobserved,
when writing an account of his first interview with lord
Mountgarrett. Each of the prelates by whom he was at-
tended on this occasion, ana. two of whom he had never
met till then, was destined to take a prominent part in the
transactions which followed in such rapid succession after
lus arrival ; but as the space allowed us in these pages is
limited, we have deemed it best to treat their biographies
consecutively, for the purpose of giving our readers vivid
portraits and fuller details of those eminent ecclesiastics
who so signally impressed the aae in which they lived.
We will therefore commence withtne archbishop of Cashel,
reserving our notices of the others for a future pace.

Thomas Walsh, son of Kobert Walsh and Anastasia
Strong, was born on the 3rd of February, 1588, in Water-
foixl, where his paternal ancestors were for many centuries
opulent merchants. Indeed, it may be said of Waterford
that no otiier city in Ireland produced so many learned
ecclesiastics — ^the Wadding family alone numbering four
of that calling, and the most distinguished, perhaps, of their
time ; nor will it be out of place to mention here, that the
celebrated Luke Wadding and Thomas Walsh were bom
in the same year. A fact, however, worthier of being re-
corded, is that Thomas came into this world while Us
father was prisoner for refusing to take the oath of
supremacy, which the Protestant authorities were then en-
deavouring to force on the reluctant population. The city
of Waterford, we may also observe, hais been at all times
singularly distinguished for its fidelity to the ancient reli-
gion ; for, notwithstanding every effort to pervert its
people, the teachings of the Reformation could never find
favour among them. Just three years before the birth of
^omas Wakh, we find a grand proof of this in the utter
failure of an attempt made by John Long, the Protestant
primate, to propagate the new religion there, by means of
•«hoo]% which, it would appear, were then immediately

THl SEVSNTSlBNTH CBNTimr. 109

nnder that dignitary's snperintendence. Indeed, the report
forwarded to him by one of hie teachers, or mayhap in-
spectors, throws much light on this subject, and shows
clearly that, of all places in Ireland, Waterford was the
last he should have thought of selecting as a field for prose-
lytism. The document to which we aUude is so extremely
interesting, and illustrative of the age in which it was
written, that we cannot help submitting it to our readers,
premising at the same time that, with due allowance for
the quaint orthography, it reads very like letters of the
same tenor with which our own times are familiar.

*^ To the Right ffonhle, the Lord Primate of Ireland, ai
hU house in Trctdagh, give tfiese,

*' I wrote unto your honour of. late, desiring to have re-
ceived an answer to satisfy me for two especial causes, which
moved me to write ; the one, for that I understood that
your honour was offended with me ; the other was to desire
vour honour's assistance in this place, where it pleased your
honour to place me, against a number of professed enemies
of God and good men, although outwaroly a few of them
make some hypocritical show, yet their lives, for the most
part, shew the contrary ; so that I have not seen nor heard
of the like contempt of the word of Gktd, and manifest re-
sistance of her majesty's proceedings— no, not in the whole
island. It is not for any man that feareth God to dwell
among them ; for, although they cannot martyr his body, yet
they will trouble his mind. Their abuses are so many, that
I would be loath to trouble your honour with the reaoing of
BO endless a matter. But some of them are so detestable and
execrable, that I cannot overpass them : (as these) first, there
is not one couple among twenty married, according to her
majesty's injunctions, but handfasted only, or else married at
home with a mass ; then they never christin their children
but in their house, either with a mass priest, or for want of
him (which commonly the wealtl^est of them want not)
the women themselves christin. Their dead they bury
not, if they can choose, but tumble them into the graves like
swine, without any word of service, or any minister — the
"* proof whereof I myself have seen very often, even before the
school door, to my great grief; and as for themselves
altogether, they either abuse the word, or absent them-
selves &om the choroh ; or when they come there^ they

ilO TPS IBISH HIEBAJLCHT IK

walk roand about like mill horses, chopping and changing,
and making merchandise, . and in such order, that they
which are in the choir, and willing to hear, for their bab-
bling cannot hear a word ; and these be not small fools,
but even the chief of the - city. These and such other
monstrous vices being suffered, it is not for any good man
to stay among them ; for they put such great confidence in
their oribery, that they hope by it only to maintain their
knavery. The ministers cry out that they are abused, de-
ceived, despised, and almost discomfited ; and for this espe-
cially, that they being constrained to send up a true certi-
ficate of such as frequented not the church, nor received
oommunion, their certificate was presently 43howed to their
enemies, and such comfortable and friendly speeches ^ivea
unto them, that they returned home again with 0{>en jaws
and foaming mouths, and reviled the ministers with such
opprobrious terms, as men of their profession use to do,
that they, poor shepherds, for fear of those brutish and
savage lions, are almost afeard to come near the sheepfold.
It was little credit for him who shewed it to them ; for
even they themselves know what his drift is, silicet,
either to be wrapt in a mantle, or cloked with a caddow,
or made drunk with aqua vitse. I beseech your honour
suffer them not to make merchandise of God's cause, and
to take money for that which was given them freely.
Cursed is the man that taketh the function upon him to
make a gain of it ; the case is common to me with all other
Christians, which causeth me the rather to presume upon
your honour's patience. But I will leave off that, and
come to my own private case. This, therefore, is to let
you to understand, that since my coming hither I had not
above thirty scholars, which was no small grief unto me,
especially being sent hither by you ; the cause why
the^ received me was rather for fear, than for any
desire they had to have their children instructed in the fear
of God, and knowledge of good letters which I soon per-
ceived by them ; for within one month most of them took
away their children from me, and sent them to other tutors
in the town that were professed papists, which was so great
a grief unto me, that I could not tarry among them ; for I
cannot possibly make my^^ subject to them that are no
subjects themselves. The reason they allese why they
took them away was, because, as they say, for that they

THE SBVENTESNTH OENTITIIT. Ill

did not profit; neither did they indeed, in that they
looked for ; for I constrained them to come to th^ service^
which they could not abide, whereat they muttered pri-
vately among themselves. There was never a boy amonff
them that was able to read fables, and yet they murmured
because I did not use them to make epistles, themes, ora-
tions, and verses ; for which cause and for that they took
them from me, and sent them to papists. T was willing to
give into their own hands, to bestow it where they will ; so
they have bestowed it upon a youth that is of their own
damnable profession ; one that was apprentice in the town,
and since that a serving man in Dublin. And whereas
vour honour persuaded me that I should find them such
loving and courteous people, I have found them clean
contrary. Even the mayor himself, of whom you made so
great account, hath dealt but strangely with me ; I never ate
nor drank in his house but once, and then not of his own
bidding. As for the sheriffs, they were the greatest
enemies I had, and went about to disgrace me most. I had
thought I should have come to Dublin before my departure
for that they denied me part of my wages : because mid-
Yiunmer quarter is shorter than the rest, th^ would have
paid it me by the week, not by the quarter. They desire to
displeasure me, and procure their children that were my
scholars to revile me, as they have done most devilishly, in
reporting that I went and nanged myself, and called me
rogue, rascal, villain, and such like speeches, which never
proceeded from them, but from their parents. They called
a son of "Pet&c Stran^es where I lie, turncoat, traitor, and
Protestant, because he useth to go to the Enelish service.
These speeches, and far worse, are in their chudren ; but if
your honour did but dwell among their parents, to see their
villany in massing at home, and murmuring at GUxl's word
in the church, I Know you could not abide it. They that
took their children from me, and let them all this while go
loitering up and down the streets, have now sent them to
this fellow again. For these foresaid causes, I thought good
to give over the place, and betake myself to my country,
where I hope to live with a quiet conscience, for here I
could have no comfort, because there is not one professor of
the gospel to be found among them — ^no, not one. Thxa giv-
ing your honour to understand what the cause of my
departure was, I commit you, with your good bedfellow* to

112^ THE IRISH HIERARCHT IK

O-od, beseeching *vou to shew forth yourself and your
authority to the glory of God, and your own commenda-
tions, and be not nke unto them which hunt after bribes,
chopping and phanging the word of God, which is the
heavenly manna, for ornaments and sweetmeats, which
please tne body, and destroy the souL

** Fare ye well. The xiith of July^ ano. 1585, Waterford.

'* Your honours to command,

*'J0HN SHEARMAN."

r It is to be regretted that the writer of this educational
report did not give us the name of the Catholic teacher who
robbed him of nis scholars, and who, probably, may have
initiated young Walsh into the iirst rudiments, many years
after Shearman, in sheer disgust, took his departure from
Waterford. Certain it is, however, that Robert Walsh and
his wife, Anastasia, found a better school for their child
beyond the seas ; and they accordingly sent him to his
maternal uncle, Gliomas Strong, bishop of Ossory, then an
exile for non conformity, and coadjutor to the archbishop
of Compostella. This was in 1600, when the boy had
reached his twelfth year. Having finished his preparatory
studies, under the superintendence of masters provided for
him by his uncle, young Walsh was soon afterwards sent to
the Irish seminary at Lisbon ; and after completing his
theological course there, he proceeded to the Irish college of
Salamanca, where he took the degree of doctor in divinity,
and was ordained priest. He then made a tour of the
entire continent, visiting each of its principal cities, and
was eventually created a knight oi St John of Malta. At
length, having come back to Ireland, in 1624, he devoted
himself to missionary duties for some time ; and then set
out for Spain, whence he was summoned to Rome, by order
of pope Urban VIII., who caused him to be consecrated
archbishop of Cashel, on the 8th of July, 1626. Shortly
after the last-named period, he returned to Ireland again,
and applied himself in his high capacity to the removal of
abuses, which, owing to the distracted state of the times,
were then prevalent m his diocese. Indeed, incredible dif-
ficulties beset him at every step ; for the spy and informer,
so largely patronized by Adam Loftus and sir Richard
Boyle, wno then held the reins of government, were con-
stantly on his track, whether he confirmed in the depths of

THB SBVBKTBXinil OjCNTUItT. 113

V

the woods, or administered the other sacraments, as was thea
usual, at night tirne, and within barricaded doors in the houses
of Catholics, in towns and hamlets. Withal, despite such ter-
rible restrictions he held many synods, not indeed in church
' or chapel, bnt in forests (in sylvis) ; and it was while presid-
ing at one of those, early in 1633, during the deputyship o£
Thomas viscount Wentworth, that he was arrested and
brought prisooer to Dublin. On the journey to the metro-
polis he was accompanied by Archibald Hamilton, son of
the then Protestant archbishop of Gashel, with whom he
discussed various points of doctrine, so learnedly and so
much to the young man*s satisfaction, that they ever after-
wards thought more kindly and better of each other. After
a short imprisonment in the Castle, the archbishop was
summoned to appear before the deputy, who coula elicit
nothing from him except that he was allowed a small stipend
by the king of Spain, to enable him to live ; and as soon as
he had yiroved to Strafford's satisfaction that he maintained
no traitorous corresp<mdence with Spain, he was set at
large, and allowed to return to his diocese. Thenceforth,
that is to say, from 1633 to 1639, he w^as suffered to exer-
cise his high functions with less constraint. After the
rising of 1641, he, like another prelate of the period,
hesitated some time before joining the confederates ; but
at last, when the lawfulness of a resort to arms for God,
king, and country, was proclaimed and sanctioned by Hugh
O'Eeilly, archbishop of Armagh, and other bishops, he was
duly elected a spiritual peer of the supreme council. The
revolution, thus suddenly efibcted, placed the Irish Catho*
lies in possession of many of their ancient churches and cathe-
drals ; and the bishops lost no time in purifying the sacred
editices, and appropriating them to the uses for which they
were founded. Following the example of the other prelates,
Walsh reconciled the venerable cathedral of Cashed
ftbout the close of 1641 ; and on this memorable occasion he
was attended by all the clergy and gentry of Munster. who
shed tears of joy on seeing that glorious monument of their
faith restored to the Catholics. The grand old temple^
indeed, had been sadly dilapidated, more than half a cen-
tary befbre, by the apostate, Myler Ma^th ; bnt ncfw that
it was once again in the possession of its true bishop, the
people raised a large sum of money, to enable liim to restore
the building, as fif as might be, to its pristine splendour.

IH THE IRISH HIERABCHT IK

This, indeed, was a labour of love with Walsh ; for, after
liaving re-erected the altars, and provided all necessary re-

anirements, he spared no pains in preserving and embellishing
lie sacred edifice, where, for the greater part of the follow-
ing seven years, he duly performed the functions of his high
office.

Resuming our notices of Walshes connexion with the con-
federated Catholics, we have sufficient evidence to show
that he was regarded as one of the most influential members
of that body, from the moment he took the oath of associa-
tion till its final dissolution.* Thus, so early as 1644, we find
him subscribing letters of recommendation, given by the su-
preme council to father Hugh de Burgh, when they appointed
the latter their agent in we court of Philip IV. of Spain,
where, doubtless, the name of the archbishop of Oashel was
already well known. In the same year he subscribed the
memorial, praying the pope to make Luke Wadding a car-
dinal ; and in that which immediately followed, he attested
tiie genuineness of the copy of Glamorgan's treaty, which was
found in the baggage of the archbishop of Tuam, after that
prelate had been slain. His devotedness to Rinnccini can-
not be questioned ; for, on his arrival, he hastened to Lime-
rick to congratulate him ; and whenever the former came
to Cashel, he was received in the archiepiscopal palace
with cordial welcome and unbounded hospitality. In fact,
Walsh was the nunzio's constant companion, on all occa-
sions when the latter visited Munster; following in his
train, as we have already seen, when limerick feted the
victory of Benburb, and assisting him with his counsels
when he went in person to press the siege of Bunratty.
Such close intimacy could not but ripen into warm and
lasting friendship ; and we may, therefore, conclude that
tiie nunzio*s appreciation of Wush's character was as high
as it was just. Instead, however, of adopting his views on
aU occasions, Walsh, on more than one instance, had the
manliness to dissent from them, nor could he be induced to
embrace the non-expediency principles of the oversanguine
Italian, till the latter, miscalculating his resources, assured
him of aids from abroad, which eventually never came, or
came so sparingly that they proved worse than useless.
Thus, for example, in the congregation of the clergy
* at Waterford, in 1646, when articles of peace with lord
Ormond were discussed, the archbishop of Cashel would

THE SEVENTEXNTH CEKTUHT. 115

have finbscribed them, doubtless as an instalment of larger
concessions, despite the opposition of the nunzio, had not
the latter convinced him that subsidies from Rome and
elsewhere would soon come for the equipment of an army,
which, with the assistance of O'Neul's and Preston's
troops, would clear Ireland of the king's enemies, and place
tiie latter in a position to restore the churches to his Irish
Catholic subjects, and cancel all penal statutes asrainst them
and their faith. This surely is proof that Walsh was
an independent-minded man, whose judgment could not be
warped by cringing sycophancy to superior authority. In
the same spirit, doubtless, and not as one blindly following
the policy of Rinuccini, he joined the latter in rejecting the
truce with lord Inchiquin, in 1648, when Ormond's
creatures in the supreme council basely allied themselves
to the man who had change'd sides three times, and
slaughtered the Munster Catholics remorselessly. Some
bishops, it is true, and the Jesuits especially, were, on this
occasion, sternly opposed to the nunzio, when he resolved
to pronounce sentence of excommunication against the
abettors of the truce ; but Walsh, far from coalescing
with the dissentient prelates, or maintaining the specula-
tions of the Jesuits regarding the validity of the censures,
stood by Rinuccini and the truly national party, who,
instead of compromising themselves, or violating the oath
of association, resolved to protract the war till they had
obtained irrefragable securities for a free parliament, and
unconditional freedom for their religion. It must be
acknowledged, however, that Walsh formed one of the
deputation that waited on lord Ormond when he resumed
ihe viceroyalty ; and that he then did sign articles of peace
with that nobleman, in the fullest assurance that he was thus
securing all the concessions which Rinuccini had demanded.
The laUer, who was then preparing to quit Ireland, was
apprized of this fact, and tooK care to record it thus : —
'* The Roman agents, having returned to Ireland, brought
with them a brief, which the pope addressed to the Irish
prelates ; and, without mentioning the matter to me, they
gave out that, as papal briefs have monitory power, they,
the bishops, were bound to pay more respect to such docu-
ments than to the nunzio. By means of this most crafty
and diabolical device, they succeeded in bringing to Kil-
kenny three of the moat scrupulous of them, namely, tha

l\6 THE IRISH HIBBARCHT TS

archbishop of Cashel, and the bishops of Waterford and
Bmly. He of Emly, however, on being made aware of the
fraud that was about to be practised, contrived to escape,
as he lodsed in the suburbs ; but as for the other two, who
slept in tne cit j, they were detained, and had to subscribe,
in order to complete the required number of signatures."
In extenuation of this most imprudent act, it may be
alleged that Walsh fancied he was thus realizing the
nunzio's requirements— full security for the free exercise of
religion, retention of the churches and their revenues — all
of which were duly guaranteed by lord Ormond ; but be
that as it may, he discovered, when too late, that the
Tioeroy set no value on treaties or stipulations with the
Irish Catholics. Indeed, so grievously pained was Walsh
by this momentary defection, that he soon afterwards asked
and obtained absolution from the censures. At length,
when the confederation was virtually broken up by
Ormondes astuteness, and when the last representatives of
that body impeached the viceroy's insincerity in the mani-
festo which they issued from the Franciscan convent of
Jamestown, Walsh, although absent from tbe meeting, did
concur in the views and sentiments of the patriotic prelates.
The meeting took place on the 6th of August, 1650 ; but on
the 23rd of the same month, Walsh, with other five bishops
then 'in Gal way, subscribed tibe aforesaid instrument, in
which Ormond was denounced as an implacable enemy to
the Catholics. Having thus glanced at the principal inci-
dents in what may be termed Walsh's religio-pohtical life^
we will now direct our regards to some of its more interest-
ing phases connected with his episcopal functions. One of
the archbishop's cherished projects was to repair the various
churches of his diocese, which, during the two preceding
reigns, had been sadly dilapidated, and turned to profane
uses. For this end he spared neither money nor labour ;
for, indeed, like Rinuccini, he desired nothing more than
to see the ritual of the Church carried out in all its splen-
dour. We have already mentioned that he reconciled the
cathedral of Cashel, and it is worth knowine that he per-
formed the same ceremony over again on tne 13th July,
1648, >ifter Inchiquin's troops had sacrilegiously pillaged
and defiled that most noble monument of Irish piety and
art In less than two years afterwards, however, the
ttrchbishop had to deplore the fatal final fall oi the

Tax SEVXNTlCXNTa OXNTURT. 117

grand old edifice into hands o£ anti-CatholicB, lor then,
ftlas—

** The ereedless, heartless, marderons robber came ;
And never since that time
Round its torn altars burned the sacred flame,
Or rose the chant sublime."

Having thus exerted himself to the utmost in prosecuting
this laudable design, Walsh's next care was to provide for
the education of his flock ; and so intent was he on this,
that he gave the Jesuits a considerable sum, part of which
was contributed by Brigid, countess of Kildare, in order
that they might found a large seminary in the city of
Cashel. This money, however, was subsequently leut to
the nuncio, to enable him to recruit Owen O'NeiU's army,
after the rejection of the peace with lord Ormond, by the
congregation . of the clergy in Waterford ; but, 'although it
was refunded afterwards, the unhappy state of Irefand
prevented the Jesuits from canying out the archbishop's
noble intentions. In shorty no other prelate could have
jaboured more zealously for the well-bAing of the people
committed to his pastoral care ; for, indeed, the grand aim
of his whole life was to provide them with everything that
could conduce to their eternal and temporal prosperity.

That this was the ruling principle of his life, there can
be no doubt ; for we are told by one who was personally
acquainted with him, that his last public act was to con-
vene a synod of the clergy in Limerick, about the close of
1649, when Cromwell's success at Drogheda and Wexford
terrified all Ireland, in order to impress upon them that
they should stand-by the people to the last extremity,
sharing all the^r vicissitudes, and encouraging them, by
word and example, to remain true to their faith. For
some time previous to the siege of Limerick, Walsh had to
conceal himself in the woods; but on the approach of
Ireton, he fixed his abode in the city, where he remained
till it surrendered. By what means he contrived to effect
his escape thence we know not, but it is certain, that, after
leaving Limerick, he lay concealed for some time in the
village of Ballygriffin, where he was arrested, on the 4th
January, 1652. He was then removed, under escort, to
the prison of Glonmel. The hardships he had to endure in
the last-named place were truly appalling ; for, as we can
rsadily imagine, the mercileas Puritans had no commisera-

118 THS ntlS? HIBBAKCHT IN

tion for the Bufferings and priyations of a Catholic arcli*
bishop. In the same jail there was then a birge number of
priests, awaiting deportation to the West Indian colonies ;
and as they were not allowed to officiate, they contrived ta
have the holy Eucharist brought clandestinely into the
prison, where they and Walsh had it dispensed to them at
often as they could elude the vigilance of their keepers.
Withal, there was some deference i^own to him by th^
Cromwellion authorities, for they offered to set him at
large, on condition that he pledged his word to never
resume his episcopal functions. Every instinct of his heart
was now revolted ; and scorning to act the hireling, and
flee, while the wolf, with bloody fangs, was ravening tbe
fold, he, at once, without a moment's hesitation, rejected
the overture. Thinking that they might, perhaps, succeed
in forcing him to subscribe their conditions by removing
him to another jail, the authorities sent him to the prison
of Waterford, about the middle of July, 1652, where he
was kept in close coniiDement till October of the year
following. But al> their devices failing to shake his resolu-
tion, he was at last suffered to take his departure for
Spain. Broken in health and spirits, the illustrious pre-
late reached Corunna about the middle of November, 1653,
and, after a few days' repose, he set out for Compostella,
where the superior of the Irish seminary had made pre-
parations for his reception. Surrounded by all the conuorts
which compassionating hearts could provide, he now found
a temporary solace in the society of his compatriots, and
the respectful attentions of the archbishop of Oompostella.
But the hand of sickness pressed heavily upon him, and he
knew that his dissolution was rapidly approaching. During
the entire six months after his arrived in Compostella, he lay
stretched on a bed of pain, worn down by old age and the
hard trials through which he had passed, and, worst of all,
by the terrible consciousness that his countiy and her
religion were now in the power of the fanatical Puritans.
How wonderful were God's designs in relation to this great
archbishop ! In childhood, he came to Compostella to find
book and board in the house which charity had assigned to
his uncle, an aged prelate, expatriated for his steadfastness
to the faith ; and now, at the close of a long career, he
came a^ain to the same place, a tottering old man, seeking
hospitality, and a grave in Uie far-famed cathedral where

X^E SSYXNTESNTH CBMTURT. 119

liis earliest and best preceptor lay moolderinff. Indeed,
"Walsh's life, spanning as it did more than half a century,
and taking in some of the most memorable facts recorded
in the chequered pages of his country's history, may be
justly regarded as one of the most varied and eventful of
the times in which he lived, when every Irishnian, in his
high position, might be said to have had an individuality,
gingularly decided and remarkaUe.

Father St. Leger, a Jesuit, to whom he was particularly
attached, remained at his bedside throughout his last illness,
tending him with filial affection, carefully noting down all
Uie incidents of the sick chamber, and ministering all aids,
spiritual and temporal, till the illustrious exile resigned hia
soul to Grod, on the 4th of May, 1654 The faithful Jesuit^
true to his memory even after he had passed away, has
given us an admirable men^oir of the archbishop, from
which we take the following account of the honours that
were bestowed on his mortal remains : —

*' He was translated, as we may piously believe, from
earth to heaven, and buried in a distinguished place in the
church dedicated to the glorious apostle of Spain. His
obsequies were performed with the greatest splendour and
piety, the archbishop of Compostella and the chapter of his
cathedral defraying all expenses. The canons and all the
religious orders of the city attended the funeral, and so
did all the secular clergy and people of Compostella. In
fact, such was the high estimation in which the deceased
archbishop's memory was held, that the populace vied with
each other in their efforts to get a sight of his corse, or
touch it with their hands. You might see crowds kissing
his hands and feet, nay, laying their rosaries and handker-
chiefs on his remains. Each and every of them gave ex-
pression to their feelings, thus — * Thrice happy city and
church, wherein the relics of so great a bishop, exile, and
confessor, lie interred !' " We know not whether there is
anv inscription to mark the place where he sleeps, in that
old temple of St. James, the goal of so many a pilgrimage in
the ages of faith; but, at all events, the good St Leger,
hoping that the tomb of such a great archbishop would not
remain noteless, has left us in the foUowiug epitax>h, a
veritable epitome of a grand life ;^

120 THB IRISH RIZBABCHT IK

EXILIUM . LATEBRAS . INCOMMODA . DAMNA . PERICLA

VINCLAQUE . PRO . VERA . RELIGIONE . TULI

ILLA . TULISSE . MEI . SUNT . ORNAMENTA . SEPULCHRI

NOBILIOU . TITULIS . OMNIBUS . ILLE . MIHI . EST

C(ET£RA . NIL . FACIUNT . SUNT . NOMINA . VANA LEOATUR

IN . TITULI . MARMORE . MULTA . TULI

EXILIUM . TERRA . EST . CCELUM . MIHI . P ATRIA . C(ELUlff

MORTE . PEfO . EXIUI . ET . TERMINUS . ILLE . MEI

CHAPTER IV.

Among the more important personages presented to the
nunzio immediately after his arrival in Kilkenny, was the
confederate lord chancellor, who held his court in that city,
and there adjudicated on all causes, civil and criminal^
independently of the supreme counciL The individual who
Aen filled that high office was John, bishop of Clonferty
and subsequently archbishop of Tuam, who, as we shall see,
was destined to occupy a distinguished place in the history
of his conntrv during some of its most eventful phases.

John de Burgh, whose father descended from a junior
branch of the noble house of that name, was bom near
Cloutuskert, in 1590, and, with his younger brother Hugh,
received the rudiments of his education from a distinguished
teacher named O'Mnllally, who resided under the paternal
roof till his pupils had acquired considerable knowledge of
Greek and Latin. The two Toothers, it would appear, had
determined, while yet mere striplings, to embrace the eccle*
siastical profession, and they accordingly set out for the
continent some time in 1614, Hugh proceeding to Lonvain,
where he touk tlie Franciscan habit in St Anthony's, and
John to Lisbon, where he was entered of the Irish secular
college. Singularly remarkable for his talents and applica-
tion, John made rapid proficiency in his studies ; and in tiie
course of six or seven years attained the highest academical
distinction ; so much so, that he was elected by his supe-
riors to go to the great school of Evora, and there, accord-
ing to usage prevalent at the time, publish a challenge invito
ing the learned men of the latter place to dispute with him
a thesis comprising the whole body of theologv, civil and
canon law. At the close of three days* trial, the Irish dis-
putant was crowned with honoura^ and t^en retamed to

THE SlCySNTBBNTH GSNTURT. 121

Lisbon, bringing with him magniloquent attestations of his
extensive learning, duly sealed and subscribed by the pro-
fessors of Evora. Having completed his studies, he was
ordained priest when he attained his twenty-fourth year,
and then set out for Salamanca, where he disputed another
thesis, so clerkly and so much to the admiration of the
erudite of that famous university, that they one and all
pronounced him fiabilia ad docendum, and conferred ux>oq
him the degree of doctor in divinity. Ketuming to Treland
about 1624, the young priest found that his pe^gogue
had abjured the faith and turned Protestant, why or where-
fore he knew not ; but their relations to each other being
now reversed, 0*Mullally submitted to instruction, and
owned himself vanquished by his former pupil, who had
the satisfaction of rescuing the old man from heresy, and
anointing his eyes before they were closed in death. After
labouring two years as a simple missionary in his native
diocese, Boetius Egan, bishop of Elphin, wrote to Rome,
recommending De Bnrgh as a fit and proper person for the
apostolic- vicariate of Olonfert, then about to oe vacated by
Thomas Egan, a Dominican ; and in the year 1627, the
holy see replied to the bishop, empowering him to confer
that dignity on his friend. In this new function De Burgh
toiled assiduously for the people committed to his charge,
and as far as in him lay supplied to some extent the want
of a bishop, for the see of Glonfert had not been provided
with one since the death of its late chief pastor, O'Farrell,
who died within the Spanish lines during the siege of Kin-
sale. De Burgh*s promotion to the apostolic-vicariate took
place durine the deputy ship of lord Falkland, who, as we
have seen, being constantly haunted by the apprehension
of ** foreign invasion," allowed the Catholics hardly any
rest. Indeed, his hired spies and informers were ever on
the track of bishops and priests ; and the sherififs of coun-
ties, whom he appointed, were ever willing to persecute
the professprs of the old faith, in order to aggrandize tiieir
own fortunes, and advance their prefermentTDe Burgh was
well aware of this ; and notwithstanding dark hints thrown
out by the deputy, questioning his loyalty, he was wise
and fortunate enough to keep clear of uie many toils that
were spread for him. On the accession of lord Strafford,
however, his anxiety for the proprietors of the soil involved
him in great difficnlties, for he made hinuelf peculiarly

122 THB I&ISH HIERABCHT IK

objectionabre to the rapacious viceroy, by opposing, as far
as he could, the })rojected confiscation of Connaught to the
crown. Again, when the parliament of 1634 was summoned,
he exerted all his influence with the CathoHc members,
urging them to resist the gigantic scheme of spoliation
which was then contemplated, under the pretext of inquir-
ing into defective titles ; and so enraged was Strafiford on
hearing this, that he lost no time in issuins warrants for
De Burgh's arrest. The vicar-apostolic, nowever, with
many of his cler^ and people, found safe shelter in the
woods, where he lay concealed till Strafford's recalL His
zeal and energy in those distracted times raised him more
and more in the estimation of the bishop of Elphin, his
earliest patron ; and when the latter applied to Rome to
appoint a bishop to the vacant see of Clonfert, he declared,
in his letters Uiat he knew none so worthy of that office
as John de Burgh. Rome approved, and despatched thft
bulls of consecration, on the 16th of October, 1641.

About half a mile north of the Slieve Aughty hills, on
the confines of the county Clare, stood the monastery of
Kinalehan, founded by the De Burghs for Franciscans, soon
after the order came to Ireland. It was a lonely and se-
cluded spot; and, indeed, none could have been found better
suited for quiet and retirement from the busy world. The
lords of Cianricarde had a special affection for this little
monastery, which they endowed sufficiently with some fair
fields and goodly orchards ; and when it la[)sed to the
crown in queen Elizabeth's time, earl Richard, surnamed
of Kinsale, purchased it from the grantee, and restored it
to the friars. The mother of this Richard, Margaret Fitz-
allen, of the house of Arundel, was, like her son, kind and
beneficent to the recluses ; and, owin^ to her devotion and
protection, the buildings were kept in repair, and their
mmates screened from scathe, for many a year after her
decease. Church and cloister were all perfect on the 19th
of May, 1642 ; and a large assemblage, among whom waa
Ulick, fifth earl of Cianricarde, was then gathered within
the sacred precincts, to witness the consecration of John,
bishop of Clonfert. Malai;hy O'Queely, archbishop ol
Tuam, assisted by Egan, bishop of Elphin, and O'Molloney^
of Killaloe, performed the solemn ceremony; and when
that evening*s ^un went doifi n, the neighbouring hills were
all ablaze with fires, lit by the peasantry in honour of the

THE SSVIUrrESNTH CENTUBT. 123

>

grand event. The see so long vacant had found a pastor,
and the mitre of Clonfert rested on the head gf one in
-whose veins ran the blood of the ancient conquerors and
lords of Connaught;

In obedience to the summons of the Irish primate, pre-
siding at the general assembly of bishops and priests at
Kilkenny, in the very month of his consecration, John,
bishop of Clonfert, suoRcribed the ordinances there aereed
upon for prosecuting war against the parliament ; and, in-
deed, he thenceforth resided almost constantly in the chief
city of the confederates, where he assisted David Rothe,
then in his seventy-second year, -and in some respects
nnable to discharge epi^opu functions. Age, literary
toil, and unremitting exertions to complete a work, which,
alas, was not destined to see the light, had so impaired the
health of the learned prelate of Ossory, that he was hardly
able to venture abroad or visit his cathedral ; but in John
of Clonfert he found a willing and energetic helper, who
represented him at all the grand functions solemnized in
St. Canice*s, where he was very constantly engaged con-
firming and ordaining. Towards the close of 1643, the
bishop of Clonfert was elected a spiritual peer of the
supreme council ; and in the following year, when that body
resolved on erecting a separate court for transacting the
civil and criminal business of the kingdom, they appointed
him its president, with the title of chancellor, thus recog-
nizing his extensive knowledge of jurisprudence and fitness
for a position of such great responsi'bility. Nor did they
fail to mark their appreciation of his broker Hugh, then a
distinguished member of the Franciscan order ; for they
elected him, about the same time, out of many others, to
go to the court of the Netherlands, with full powers to act
as their aeent and representative.

Meanwnile, the bishop of Clonfert, notwithstanding the
duties he had to discharge in Kilkenny, looked well to the
administration of his own diocese ; and in the course of a
very short time after his elevation to the see, had the
happiness of reforming many abuses inseparable from the
state of tiie times, and doing much for the spiritual and
temporal prosperity of his flock. He caused many of the
churches to be repaired, and supplied with the necessary
requirements, presided at synods of his clergy, and strove
to nis utmost to promote the education of the young. Hia

^24 THE UUBH HISBARCHY IN

repuifttioa in the oonncil of the confederates stood bi|^, and
particularly so with that section, of it which was unforta-
aately biassed in favour of lord Ormond ; but although he
did not, by any overt act, approve the policy of the latter,
he nevertheless gave indication that he would not scruple
adopting it in preference to what were termed extreme
measures. This will be easily accounted for, when we re-
member that lord Clanricarde maintained strict neutrality^
during the early progress of the confederates, and, as we
m^ suppose, innuenced the action of his kinsman.

He had now been three years in possession of the see of
Clonfert, when the archbishopric of Tuam fell vacant by
the death of O'Queely, slain as we have already described ;
and no sooner was this event signified to the supreme
council than they, without consulting the primate or any
other metropolitan, as was their custom, recommended X>e
Burgh as a fit person to succeed the deceased prelate. When
this important business was submitted to the nunzio, who
was then in Kilkenny, he, although deprecating the right
of the supreme council to meddle in such matters, ancient
privileges claimed by the English crown notwithstanding^
wrote at once to Kome a duuted recommendation of De
Burgh, whom he described as a man " of honest views, slow
in speech, and suffering from an attack in the eyes, which
might ultimately damage his sight." In the same letter he
bore ample testimony to the fitness of Hugh, the bishop^s
brother, whom he had met at Paris, statins that '*he was
a man of greater energy and. activity, whose nomination
was simply meant to reflect honour on the already conse-
crated."

In the interval between this contemplated translation to
the see of Tuam and the rejection of lord Ormond's peace
by the synod at Waterford, in 1646, it would appear that
the nunzio had no firmer friend or more active partisan
than the bishop of Clonfert. In fact, of all the prelates
who declared against the viceroy's overtures, none de-
nounced them with greater vehemence than De Burgh ; and
that nothing might be wanting to convince the nunzio of
his hostility to lord Ormond, and the terms the latter pro-
posed, he subscribed the condemnation of all the articles
of said peace, and took his place as spiritual peer in the
supreme council which was elected in August of the afore-
igud year. At that time the archbiahoprio of Taam was

THE SEVENTEENTH CENTtJET. 12S

still vacant, and the nunzio was, if possible, more anxious
for De Burgh's translation. In fact, he urged the holy see
to lose no time in sanctioning it ; for, just about the time
of the Waterford assembly he -wrote to Rome — "That he
had nothing more to say concerning the church of Tuam
save that six months' experience of the bishop of donfert
had convinced him that he deserved promotion." There
was, however, a difficulty in the way ; for the grand duke
of Tuscany had written to the nunzio, praying him to
bestow the vacant see on father Nicholas Donnellan, an
Augustine friar, and provincial of his order in Austria;
but however much disposed Binuccini might have been to
oblige a sovereign in whose court his own relations held
high ofBce, he declined interfering in behalf of Donnellan,
alleging, in answer to the duke's request, that the arch-
bishopric had already been given to some one of the many
for whom interest had been made at Kome. In justice to
the nunzio, it must be admitted that he used his influence
with the holy see for Clonfert's promotion ; and he was ac-
cordingly translated to the archbishopric of Tuam early in
April, 1646. The announcement of this fact was hailed
with joy by the clergy and people of Connaught, all of
whom entertained a high opinion of the talents and piety
of the new archbishop, whom we shall henceforth designate
by his projiBT title-John of Tuam.

After being duly inducted to the archbishopric, his first
care was to restore, as far as the revenues of his see en-
abled him, the ancient cathedral of St. Mary, which had
Buffered great dilapidation during the intrusion of the
Protestants, who, to accommodate the small conj^egation
they either forced or bribed to assemble there, had com-
pletely destroyed the architectural symmetry of its once
oeautiful. interior. The archbishop, indeed, spared no ex-
pense or labour in re-erecting the altars, and replacing the
sacred furniture which had been carried off by the Anglican
prelates ; and as soon as he had completed this ]^rtioa of
JD3S work, he turned his attention to the arcmepLsoopal

glace, which he rebuilt sumptuously from the foundations,
ard by the cathedral, on the gospel side of the grand altar,
stood the sacellum or oratory, in which the relics of St.
Jarlath were venerated for many an age ; but when heresy
found its way to Tuam, it was unroofed, and stripped of
all its votive offerings. Fortunately, however, the reUos

M

126 THX IRISH HIERAKCHT HT

were presenred ; and the archbishop had the satisfaction of
seeing them once more deposited in their ancient resting-
place, which he took care to restore to something like its
former splendour. Indeed, it would be impossible to find,
in the history of the Irish hierarchy, any prelate worthier
of appreciation than this archbishop of Tuam ; for we have
it on the authority of one who enjoyed his intimate ac-
quaintance, in prosperity as well as adversity, that he ex-
pended the entire revenue of his see in works of public
utility. His hospitality was unbounded ; and his taste for
books, of which ne made a vast collection, with the view
of founding an extensive library in Tuam, was so notorious,
that bibliopolists from France and Belgium found in him
a ready and generous purchaser of the valuable works
which then issued from the press of those countries. An
enthusiastic admirer of the Jesuits, he advanced them a
large sum for maintaining a seminary which they erected
in Galway, and in the same city he built for himself a
stately residence three store}rs high. As the see of Clon-
fert was now vacant, the archbishop was desirous of hav-
ing it conferred on his brother Hugh, in preference to
"Walter Lynch, vicar-capitular of Tuam ; but as the latter
was strongly recommended by the nunzio, his competitor,
as may }^ supposed, had little or no chance of success.
Indeed, the nunzio at this moment did not conceal his dis-
like of the aspirant or of the archbishop himsdf ; for he
described them both as ** hot-headed, and wishing to have
everything their 'own way;*' and the same letter which
conveyed this intelligence to Bome, represented that it
would be unwise to have '*two brothers collated to the
two best dioceses in the province ;" and that the newly-ap-
pointed archbishop of Tuam was ** the most unmanageable
and refractory of all the Irish prelates with whom he (the
nunzio) had to deal." ** He blames me," wrote the latter,
'*for recommending Lynch, and what is worse, he blames
pother who is superior to ns all." In this divergence of
opinion respectinc the fitness of Hugh for the see of Clon-
fert, originated that mutual antipathy which thenceforth
influenced the nunzio and the archbishop in their relations
to each other. As for the latter, his enemies were wont to
say he was a mere creature of the nunzio as long as the
see of Tuam remained vacant ; but that, on attaining the
object of his ambition, he -ared little for the person who.

^ • - ' ' ■ y

' •••/.•. . / . / f / Ji. r> it

THJS SEVEKTEXNTH CRNTXTBY, 127

had been instrumental in elevating bim. True or false as
sncb allegations may have been, a crisis was now fast ap-
proaching when those two high dignitaries were to meet face
to face in the council of the confederates, where, as we
shall see, they differed in their views of polity, and parted
"unfriends.'' Let us state summarily the causes which
brought about such sad and lamentable results.

During the entire of the year 1647, the confederate
armies were singularly unsuccessful in the field ; and av^ost
of the expeditions which proved so disastrous had been
undertaken at the instigation of the nunzio, the blame and
censure, always inseparable from failure, were unsparingly
thrown upon him. The attempt to seize Dublin, which
was savea by the want of accord between the confederate
generals, was attributed to the nunzio's overweening ambi-
tion ; and to thwart him still more, the Catholic clergy
within the walls of the metropolis had subscribed a protest
lu^ainst his proceedings. Then came the fatal battle of
Trim, in whicn Preston^ fine army was utterly routed by the
forces under Jones, the parliament general, to whom lord
Ormond had surrendered the city ; and, as it were to crown
all these reverses, lord Inchiquin had taken Ca^el, Callan,
and Fethard, and beaten the Munster army, under Taaffe,
on the field of Cnoc-na-noss, where Colkitto, alias Alaster
MacDonald, was cruelly assassinated after he had been
made prisoner. To heighten still more this appalling state
of affairs, there was a great scarcity of money throughout
the coun^ ; and as agriculture had been neglected, famine,
with its attendant train of horrors, threatened to sweep
away the remnant of the population. No one, indeed, was
more sensibly aware of this than the nunzio himself ; but
he counted on supplies of money and munitions from
abroad, and on the support of Owen O'Neill's army, which,
being entirely devoteoi to his views, would, as he though^
sooner or later, retrieve all losses, and place him and the
clergy once more in the ascendent. The supreme council of
the confederates, however, thought otherwise, and could see
no remedy for the wretched state of the country, except in
making peace with Inchiquin, and gaining bim over to their
interests. A meeting was accordingly held at Kilkenny,
to deliberate the prehminaries of this business ; and it was
then resolved that French, bishop of Ferns, and Nicholas
Plunket, should proceed to Bome with all possible haste,

128 THB ntlSH HIEBARCHT UT

and sabmit to Innocent X. a report on the nnliappy cona-
tion of Ireland, and a memorial, praying his holmess to
expedite the sapplies which the nunzio had already promised
in nis name. Meanwhile, the spiritual and temporal peers,
together with the representatives of the lower house, had
been summoned to Kilkenny, on the 23rd of April, 1648,
to discuss the measures already taken to forward the cessa-
tion, and to ejffect, if possible, a union of Inchiquin*s army
with that of the confederates, that both might act in con-
cert against the parliamentarians. Before proceeding, how-
ever, to the house of assembly, fourteen of the bishops met
in the nunzio*s residence, and there, after examining the
proposed treaty, a large majority pronounced that *' as it
gave no certain guarantee for the free and open exercise of
the Catholic religion, and total abolition of all penal enact-
ments against Catholics, they could not in conscience sub-
scribe it." Among those who condemned the cessation
was John of Tuam ; and his conduct on this occasion
astonished the nunzio, for he had already signed the in-
structions given by the supreme council to the commis-
sioners whom they empowered to treat with Inchiquin.

Strange, however, and inconsistent as it may appear,
John of Tuam afterwards subscribed the articles of the
cessation, and adopt^d the policy^ of the party opposed to
the nunzio, justifying himself in a public instrument,
which set forth '*that he never repudiated tiie agreement
with Inchiquin, but only certain clauses of it, which were
subsequently altered and amended.*' The majority of the
bishops, indeed, was with the nunzio ; but of the eight who
opposed him, the most conspicuous and formidable was the
archbishop of Tuam, whose influence w^ duly appreciated
by the adnerents of lord Ormond.

Exasperated by the conduct of the supreme council, and
apprehensive of his personal safety, the nunzio quitted
Kilkenny soon after the cessation had been concluded, and
betook himself to Maryborough, whefe Owen O'Neill's
army lay encamped, in order to devise some measure
which might, pernaps, crush the Ormondists, and prevent
all eood Catholics from marching under the banners of the
perfidious Inchiquin and the temporizing Preston. Both
nad vowed eternal hostility to O'Neill and the nunzio him-"
self; but surely in this hour of their direst extremity, holy
Church lacked not weapon wherewith to smite her oppres-
sors, and protect her truest diampions J

THB SEVENTEENTH CENTITRT. 129

On the 7th of May, 1648, groups of the citizens of Kil-
kenny might be seen collected in front of St. Canice*s,
readinff an ominous broad sheet, which had been hung out,
early uiat morning, on the grand gate of the cathedral, by
Massari, dean of Fermo, and auditor to the nunzio. Its
purport was j)lain and intelligible to the humblest capacity ;
it was sentence of excommunication and interdict, fulmi-
nated from Kilmcen, by the nunzio, against all abettors
of the truce with Inchiquin, and the members of the
supreme council who had brought about that fatal compact.
The interdict forbade the opening of the churches, as well
as the celebration of the divine mysteries, in all cities,
towns and villages, which submitted to the peace ; and all
bishops and priests were commanded to proclaim this ordi-
nance throughout the kingdom, chaplains of regiments
being specially ordered to r^ui it aloud in the camps for the
soldiers serving under their respective generals.

The first consequence of this measure was quick deser-
tion from Preston's ranks to the standard of O'Neill, for
such of the troops of the former as were not *' excommu«
nication proof " quitted the Leinster generaPs camp, and
went over in detachments to that of the northern chieftain,
who had sworn fealty to the nunzio, and war to ihe last
extremity with the allies of Inchiquin. The supreme
council, indeed, had good reason to dread O'Neill, who,
with his army, was within twentv-four hours' march of
Kilkenny, and they accordingly despatched letters under
their great seal, beseeching him to disregard the censures;
but, to the consternation of the messenger, the Ulster
general, after perusing the document, flung it into the fire,
contemptuously, and commanded the bearer, if he valued
life, to quit his camp with all possible speed — ** Return,"
said he, '*to Kilkenny, and tell your masters of the su-
preme council, that I regard them as'violaters of the oath
of association, enemies to God and man, and justly smote by
the sword of holy Church."

The supreme council, however, and the abettors of the
peace, looked on the censnres in a different light, alleging
that the nunzio had not jarisdiction to proceed to such
lengths ; and in order to quiet the conscience of the popu-
lace, the^ interposed an appeal to Rome, pending the
examination of which, as they gave out, the excommunica-
tion and interdict must neoessarily W null, and of no

130 THE IRISH HnSKABCHY TJX

effect. Some of the bishops, and they were the minority;
maintained this view of the case, and John of Tuam,
especially, with two of his suffragans, resolved to treat the
sentence as uncanonical, and utterly unjustifiable. He,
indeed, made no secret of his resistance to the nunzio ; for
when Clanricarde consulted him about levying troops to
act against O'Neill, he quashed his lordship's scruples, and
persuaded him that he was justified in marching against
the man who professed his readiness to maintain the viSidity
of the censures at the sword's point, as became a true and.
devoted soldier of the Church. Notwithstanding the op-
position which the censures encountered from the dissentient
bishops and lay chiefs in the supreme council, they were
faithfully observed in many of the towns, but nowhere
more so than in Galway, where the nunzio tarried some
time before quitting the Irish shores. In that city, how-
ever, John of Tuam, with one of his suffragans and two
friars of the discalced Carmelites, preached openly against
the nunzio's authority and interdict, but the mayor, war-
den, and populace were all on the side of the latter, whom
they esteemed highly for his many excellent characteristics
of head and heart. The archbishop, however, persevering
in his resistance, caused the doors of the collegiate church
to be forced open, and there officiated publicly, despite all
remonstrances. This appeared to the nunzio so heinous a
crime, that he charged his confessor to set out for Kome^
and report the whole affair to the pope ; snggestins, at the
Bame time, that John of Tuam should be cited to vie Holy-
See, to answer for his conduct. Another infringement of
the nunzio's authority was also laid to his charge, inasmuch
as he had celebrated, in the church of the Carmelites, who
refused to observe the censures, and were excommunicated
by the nunzio, in a full congregation of eieht bishops and
thirty theologians, assembled within the walls of the town.
Hoping to remedy this sad perplexity, the nunzio en-
deavoured to convene a synod m Galway, but Clanricarde
and Inchiquin, acting for the supreme council, intercepted
the bishops on the way, and then laid siege to the town,
which, after capitulating, was obliged to contribute a large
subsidy, in retaliation for its devotedness to the nunzio and
rejection of the cessation.

In the midst of this weltering confusion, French. and
Flunket reached Kilkenny, on their return from Rome, the

THE SSYXNTEENTH CENTX7RT. 131

former bringing with him the pallium for John of Tuam,
and both cnarged with letters from the pope to the bishops
of Ireland. Before they had time, however, to communi-
cate to the supreme council the result of their mission, they
learnt that Massari had been imprisoned on three distinct
charges, namely, publishing the censures, intercepting let-
ters addressed to the spiritual and temporal peers, and
capturing a ship belonging to the archduke, Leopold of
Belgium, while ne, Hassan, was entering the harbour of
Waterford, on his return from Italy. French felt sorely
hurt at this stem proceeding of the supreme council, and
lost no time in securing the sympathies of the archbishop
of Tuam for the nnnzias auditor, who was indebted for his
liberation to their united exertions, a fact of which he sub-
sequently lost all remembrance, for as French pithily
remarked — ** ScivU benejicium gumere, etreddere nescivitf
or, in other words, he proved himself dead to all sense of
gratitude.

But at this juncture the state of the country was truly
appalling, rent as it was between two conflicting factions,
one maintaining the nunzio*8 censures, and the other insist-
ing on the ** cessation'' with Inchiquin. '* Altar," says
French, an ocular witness, ** was arrayed against altar, the
clergy inveighing against each other, and the bishops and
best theologians in the land maintaining dififerent views of
the validity of the censures. As for the populace, they
hardly knew what side to take, or what guide to follow, for
in one church they heard the advocates of theicensures i)ro-
claim, * Christ is here,' and in another, * He is not there,^
but here with us who stand by the dissentient bishops, and
the appeal to Home against the nunzio's conduct." The
latter, indeed,, imputed the blame of all this to John of
Tuam, and made an ineffectual attempt to show him how
much he detested his conduct in aiding any compact with
Inchiquin. .

Anticipating the arrival of French, and knowing that he
was bearer of the pallium to John of Tuam, the nunzio
despatched a letter in cipher to his secretary, then in Dun-
cannon fort, telling him to inform the bishop that he was
not to deliver the arcbiepiscopal insignia till he had first
communicated personally with him, the nunzio, then in
Galway. That there might be no mistake in this grave
matter, the aecretary was further instructed to leaye a copy

132 THl IRISH HIBRARCHT IS

of the letter, deciphered^ with the chaplain of the fort, in
case he himself might be absent when French landed ; and,
relying on the faitnfol discbarge of this order, the nunzio
flattered himself that John of Tuam would be deprived of
that sacred badge without which he could merely subscribe
himself archbishop elect. Whether the secretary or chap-
lain ever communicated this message to French does not
appear, but it is certain that the latter carried out the
instructions he had received at Rome, and accordingly
delivered the pallium to John, archbishop of Tuam, in the
cathedral of Kilkenny, on the 26th of August, 1648, the
condition of the times dispensing, we may presume, with
the law usually observed of conferring it in the metropoli-
tan's own church, or at least within his province. Be that as
it may, the nunzio was thwarted, and the partizans of the
archbishop rejoiced at beholding him bo honoured by the
holy see.

Early in February, 1648, just as the nunzio was waiting
in Gal way bay for a fair wind to waft him from the imhappy
land, where, to use his own expression, **the sun is hardly
ever seen,'' lord Ormond returned to Ireland to resume the
viceroyalty, and organize the scattered forces of the con-
federates against the parliamentarians. As soon as his
arrival was made icuown, John of Tuam, accompanied by
the bishop of Ferns, waited on him at Carrick, and invited
him to proceed without delay to Kilkenny, to enter on his
new government. The viceroy graciously assented to the
proposal, and gave orders for a detachment of Inchiquin's
heretic troops to garrison the castle of Kilkenny, where, on
his arrival a few days afterwards, he dissolved the old con-
federation, and set about preparing for the coming campaign.
With his usual craft, Ormond thought it expedient to retain
Bome of the bishops in his council ; and when John of Tuam
and French of Ferns were proposed, they were duly sworn,
but on the distinct understanding that they were to sink
their episcopal titles, and subscribe themselves in their
proper name and surname. This, indeed, seems to have
been an undignified compromise ; for it must be bome in
mind that Ormond, on tnis occasion, guaranteed the open
exercise of the Catholic religion, possession of the churcnes
with their revenues, and many other advantages contingent
on the success that might be achieved by the Catholic
forces. None of these things were expressly mentioned by

THB SEV15NTEENTH CENTURY. 133

the viceroy in any of his former treaties ; and the nonzio,
writing from Rouen, attributed these ample concessions **to
the censures," which, said he, ''so terrified the bishops
and laity, that they resolved to secure all they could, and
make terms which should be irrevocable. **

The articles of this peace between Ormond and the pre-
lates were ratified by Chiles II. at the Hague, in March,
1649 ; but the faithless monarch, after his Irish forces had
been beaten by Cromwell at Drogheda,- Wexford, and else-
where, basely truckling to the Scotch covenanters, recalled
all concessions made in favour of the Catholics, and de-
clared the act of his lieutenant in that regard null. The
Irish bishops now found that Ormond was not to be trusted,
many of them believing that he had counselled the king to
violate his royal word so solemnly pledged, and they, there-
fore, assembled at Jamestown, about itte beginning of
August, 1650, and decreed that they would reconstruct the
)ld confederacy, and thenceforth hold themselves indepen-
jlent of the viceroy, whom they now regarded as an enemy
to themselves and their religion. "Hna declaration was
signed by fifteen bishops, among whom was John of Tuam.
On the eleventh of the same month, the assembly still
sitting at Jamestown, elepted six commissioners to treat
with the Duke of Lorraine, and invite him to land forces in
Ireland, then ahnost entirely in the power of the Crom-
wellians, and among the advocates of this project none
proved himself more demonstrative than the archbishop of
xuam. In November, immediately following, the prelates
adjourned to Loughreagh, and there subscribed a public
instrument teeming with professions of loyalty to the king,
and beseeching lord Ormond to transfer the viceroyalty to
a Catholic. John of Tuam signed this important document;
and towards the close of 1650, he had the satisfaction of
seeing Ulick de fiurgh, earl of Clanricarde, installed in the
high dignity vacated by Ormond. The negotiation with
the duke of Lorraine was now actively prosecuted by the
new viceroy, French, bishop of Ferns, and others having
been commissioned to proceed to Pont-a-Mousaon to hasten
the protectorate, but, as we have already said, the business
came to nothing, owingto the imprudence of the Irish agents,
or perhaps the reluctance of Clanricarde, who had no real
desire to see foreign soldiers garrisoning Ireland. Whether
he had or had not made little matter, S)r Sir Charles Coote
put an end to the whole scheme by inarching on Galway,

134 THl IRISH HIERABGHY nf

into which he drove Clanricarde's outposts on the 12th of
August, 1651, and then pitched his camp within a few
hundred yards of the walls.

During the siege, or rather blockade, the bishops and
clergy from every part of Ireland took refuge in the town,
and among the former was John of Tuam. At last, after
a gallant resistance, extending over nine months, Galway
capitulated, and opened its gates to the parliament troops,
on the 12th of April, 1652. Foreseeing that the Cromwel-
lians would not keep faith with the inhabitants, the arch-
bishop made his escape out of the town as Stubbers' soldiers
were entering it, and hurried off to Ballymote; in the
neighbourhood of which place he lay concealed till 1654,
when he was arrested and brought under escort back to
Galway, where, after being robbed of his ring and other
valuables, he was flung into a noisome prison, overcrowded
by numbers of the clergy and chief nobility of the land. In
this place he had an attack of paralysis, but notwithstand-
ing the dangerous nature of his malady, he was detained
there till August of the following year, when, with many
others, he was put on board ship and landed on the coast
of Kormandy. He then made his way to Nantes, where
he resided five years, maintained by the alms of the French
committee formed for the relief of the distressed and ex-
patriated Irish. From Nantes he removed to Dinan, in
Older to be near St. ^alo, a port then much frequented by
Irish merchants, from whom he could learn how it fared
wil9i his unhappy country ; after a year's sojourn in the
latter place, he resolved to brave all risk and return
to Ireland; for, notwithstanding the many infirmities
under which he laboured, he desired nothing so much
as to spend the residue of his days among his scattered
flock. The pains and penalties of exile were bitter enough,
but still more bitter would it have been for him to fill an
exile's grave, far away from the shrine of St. Jarlath, and
that venerable cathedral of St. Mary, for whose restoration
he had done so much. He accordingly set sail from St.
Malo, about the beginning of 1663, and eventually reached
Dublin, after a tedious passage of fourteen days. The mo-
ment his arrival in the metropolis was made knovm, he
was visited by Peter Walsh, the semi apostate Franciscan,
who, presuming on his influence with the viceroy, imperii-
nentlv rated him for daring to return without permission.
Walsne's grand aim w^ to get the archbishop to sign his

TRB SEVBKTEENTH OENTUBT. 135

f amons Remonstrance, but all his arguments were nnavail-
ing ; and the only answer he could get from the aged prelate
was, '*that he had come back to Ireland to lie down at
rest in his grave and native soil." In vain did Walsh re-
mind him of his opposition to the nunzio's censures, and
the declaration he had subscribed at Jamestown against
lord Ormond ; for, although the archbishop knew the lat-
ter was one of those who treasure up the remembrance of
a wrong, and ignore that noblest revenge — forgiveness — he
could not be moved by any threat or insinuation, and
merely requested his tormentor to present his respects to
the viceroy, and tell him that he dutifully craved leave to
remain in Ireland *'for so short a time as he had to drag
on a miserable existence, and end it by a death more wd«
come, which he hourly expected.''

What precise answer Ormond returned does not appear,
but it is certain that he ordered the archbishop to leave
Dublin with all possible haste. Worn down by many in-
firmities, he was unable to perform his journey on horse-
back, and consequently had to be carried by slow marches
in a litter, till he reached the neighbourhood of Tuam,
where a kind friend had prepared a humble residence for
him. The archiepiscopal palace, we need hardly say, was
closed against him, for it was then occupied by Pullen, the
Anglican prelate, who, on getting possession of it, could
not conceal his admiration of the man who exhibited such
refined taste in its decoration and appointments. In the
course of the following years, 1665-6, John of Tuam was
more than once importuned by Plunket, bishop of Ardi^^h,
and others, to meet them in Dublin, '* for the purpose of
giving his majesty assurances of their future fidelity in all
temporal causes and contiDgencies,'* but neither his health
nor inclinationB would allow him to take any part in these
proceedings, in which he knew right well that Walsh was
prime mover. He replied, however, at considerable length
to the bishop of Ardagh ; and the letters he wrote on those
occasions may justly be regarded as evidences of sound
sense and a thorough acquaintance with the English lan-
guage, such, indeed, as is rarely met with in epistplaiy
compositions of our times. He had done with politics ; and
notmng now remained for him but to make preparation for
his appearance at that bar to which O'Neill, Rinucciniy
and many others of the great men, with whom it was his

136 THB IBISH HISBABOHY HT

lot to differ, had been snmmoned long before. Exhsanted
by sufferings and old age, he seldom left the house in which
he found refuge after his arrival in the metropolis of his
see ; but he attended, nevertheless, as far as increasing
ailments allowed, to the dischai^e of his episcopal func-
tions — confirming the young, and consecratiujg the holy
oils, not only for his own diocese, but also tor that of
Cashel ; not, indeed, on holy Thursday, but eight days pre-
viously, by virtue of a special privilege he obtained m>m
the Holy See, after havmg first sought and received, ad
eautdamf absolution from the nunzio^s censures. During
the last days of his life, when he himself was no longer able
to officiate, he had Mass daily celebrated in.his chamber by
father Thomas Quin, a Jesuit, who remained constantly at
his bedside, ministering to his comforts, and witnessing the
resignation with which the illustrious patient submitted to
excruciating agony, for which medical science had no ano-
dyne. In an interval, however, of comparative freedom
from pain, it occurred to him that he should make arrange-
ments for his interment ; and, as he knew that he might not
hope to lay his bones with his predecessors, he gave direc-
tions to have the oratory of St Jarlath's, situated on the
right of the cathedral, but detached from that building,
re-roofed with tiles, for the purchase of which he famished
money, and duly provided with all the requirements of a
mortuary chamber. This being accomplished, he received
the last rites of the Church, and then passed to the better
life on the fourth of April, 1667, after he had completed
his seventy-seventh year. His death occurred on holy
Thursday, and on Easter eve his mortal remains were borne
processionally to the place he himself had chosen, and from
which the sluine of St. Jarlath had long before been re«.
moved by some pious hand, to guard it against desecration.
Boger O'Flaherty composed an epitaph for this illustrious
prelate, as did also the celebrated medical doctor O'Meara^
and we subjoin both for the gratification of our readers : —

" POST . SEX . UNDECTES . SEXCENTAS . MILLEQUE . BRUMAfl
APRILIS . QUARTA . PROXIMIORE . DIE
IN . C(£NA . DOMINI . DOMINUS . TUAMENSIS . JESU
FIT . COMMENSAUS . CUI . FAMULATUS . ERAT.***

OTlahertj.

THB SWENTEBNTH CBNTTTRT. 137

"BURGIUS . EXCUSSO . VIDUAM . RECTORE , CAPESSIT

LUCTANTEM . PrXAGO . TURBINIBUSQUE . RATEM

QUI . FACILl . SOLERS . FLUCTUS . ELUDERE . FLEXU

OBVIUS . A I 'VERSO . NON . AMAT , IRE . SALO

HAC . ILLE . ARTE . GREGEM . SERVAT . SINE . VULNEKE

VICTOR.

QUI . TANDEM . IN . PORTU . SOSPITE . SERUS . OBIT

PRO . GREGE . GERTANTEM . PASTOREM . OCCUMBERE

PULCHUUM . EST
UTIUUS . SALVO . EST . CONSENUISSE . GREGL***

CHAPTER IIL

The second prelate who accompanied Rinuccini on his. first
visit to lord Mountgarret, was Thomas Fleming of Dublin,
a truly eminent man, whose biography, however, would be
incomplete, without some notices of his predecessors in
that see. Our object in premising such details is to make
our readers aware of the state in which Fleming found the
diocese when he was appointed its chief pastor, and to
throw additional light on the history of the archbishops
who filled the chair of St. Laurence, after the apostasy of
Hush Curwen, who, we may observe, like his immediate
predecessor. Brown, was an Englishman.

After the defection of Curwen, and his translation to
Oxford, in 1567, there was an interval of thirty- three
years, during which the popes did not deem it prudent to
appoint an archbishop to the vacant see, apprehending, we
may suppose, that to do so would only tend to exasperate
Queen Elizabeth's ministers, and involve the Cathoucs of
tike pale in difficulties, far greater than those with which
they were actually contending for the maintenance of their
faith. At length, however, when the success of Hugh
O'Neill's arms seemed to threaten the existence of the Ensluh
interest in Ireland, or, at all events, gave reason to hope
that the severe enactments against Catholics would be
mitigated, if not entirely swept from the statute book,
Clement VIII., at the suggestion of the king of Spain, then
the ally and supporter of the northern Irish rainces, nomi-
nated a Spaniard to the archbishopric of Dublin. This
was Matthew de Oviedo, a Franciscan friar, and native of
Segovia, whose consecration took place in 1600. Very
litUe IB known of the history of this archbiahop%r his

• O'MeaFB.

138 TBS miBH ehbabcht xir

antecedents ; but it is certain that he was employed by
the king of Spain to negotiate with the Geraldines in the
south of Ireland, twenty years before his elevation to the
see of Dublin, as appears by a despatch sent by the com-
mons of Lixnaw, to the queen's attorney and recorder of
Limerick, dated the 27th of September, 1580, which
mentions him thus : " There is in great estimation with
them, the Geraldines, one Frere Matthew Oviedo, which
they call commisaarius apostolicus, and the bishop of Kil-
laloe, Donald Kyan's son. '' The object which the pope had
in view when appointing a Spaniard to the see of Dublin
must have been to strengthen Spanish influence in Ireland ;
and, doubtless, the same motive prompted him to nomi-
nate another native of the same countiy, about the same
period, to the diocese of Lei^hlin. This was Francis
{libera, who, however, never visited our shores, and died
at Antwerp, on the 10th of September, 1604, after having
built an infirmary for the Irish Franciscans of that city.
Returning to Matthew de Oviedo, we may state that he
never exercised jurisdiction in the diocese of Dublin,
indeed, never set foot within the pale, and knew nothing
of the country, save the little he saw of it on the southern
and northern coast. On his arrival as archbishop, he
tarried some time at Donegal, in the castle of Hugh Boe
O'Donnell, and soon afterwards went back to Spain, to
urge on the king the necessity of sending munitions and
money to the Irish princes. After an interval of about a
year, Philip III. despatched a flotilla, with a small contin-
gent of men and arms ; but unfortunately, Juan d'Aguila,
the commander-in-chief, instead of landing on the north
coast, anchored in the harbour of Kinsale, and set about
fortifying that place. On board one of the ships of this
squadron, Matthew de Oviedo, accompanied by Thadeus
O'Farrell, a dominican, and bishop of Clonfert, revisited
Ireland; but when the expedition failed, the archbishop
returned to Spain with Hugh O'Donnell and Florence
Conry, to supplicate further aids, and impeach the condact
of the Spanish generalissimo. The latter was reprimanded
for his defeat, but owing to the untimely death of O'Donnell,
the negotiation for the desired aids was abrubtly broken oS,
•nd Oviedo, abandonding all hope of ever seeing Ireland
again|||>ecame suffragan to the archbishop of Compostella.
Thus the disaster of Kinsale cost Oviedo his arch-

THS SEVENTIBNTH CBNTITBY. 139

bishopric of Dublin ; but it placed lum, nevertheless, in a
safer positioD than- he could have held in Ireland during the
' reign of Elizabeth, or that of James I. On his decease,
which occurred some time in 1610, Paul V. caused the
vacant see of Dublin to be filled by £mer MacMahon,
bishop of Glogher, whose translation took place on the 2nd
of May, 1611. This prelate was a scion of the princely
house of Famey, which had risked and lost all its grand
possessions for adhering to Tyrone, and whose utter ruin
was accomplished when the latter, accompanied by James
MacMahon* and others of the Irish Catholic nobility fied
from Ireland, in 1607. Many years before that memorable
event, £mer, then a mere boy, was sent to the University
of Pont-a-Mousson, where, after passing through the vari-
ous schools with great distinction, he was promoted to holy
orders, and honoured with the degree of doctor in civil and
canon law. On his return to Ireland, he devoted himself
to missionary duty in his native diocese, and was eventually
created its bishop in 1609.

When we contemplate the state of the times in which
MacMahon exchanged the see of Glogher for the more emi-
nent and perilous one of Dublin, the conviction forces
itself upon us that he must have been a man of great zeal
and great courage. Had he insisted on remaining in his
native diocese, the glens and forests of Monaghan, and
above all, the devotedness of .the people to the consecrated
member of a family that had suffered so much for faith
and country, would, doubtless, have afforded him secure
shelter in tiie hour of need, and stood between liiiw and the
myrmidons of the law, who were ever on the watch for
priests and bishops. £ut in accepting a dignity which, a
short time before, had been filled by the subject of a
monarch who had striven to drive the English out of Ire-
land, it is certain that he exposed himself to imminent
risk and certain death, had anyone been found base enough
to betray him into the hands of his enemies. It must also
be considered that the deputy at this period was a rapacious
fanatic,' famous for inventing plots and conspiracies, by
-which he contrived to aggrandize his fortunes, and still
more famous for his affected zeal in advancing the reformed
religion. Indeed, none of his predecessors since the begin-

See " FUglit of the Earls," p. 279.

'

140 THE IRISH HIERARCHY IN

nin^ of the English Bchism was a greater enemy to the

gopes, or a more unprincipled persecutor of Catholics, than
ir Arthur Chichester, whose soul aim was to extirpate the
native Irish, and get possession of their lands, in order to
parcel them out TOtween himself and the new adventurers,
who were Buhsequently designated "planters." "With this
object constantly in view he did his utmost to keep alive
the bigotry of the English cabinet, and he hardly ever die-
tated a despatch from Dublin Castle that did not teem with
alarms of Spanish invasion to retrieve the disaster of Kin-
sale, or ''sure intelligence'' gathered from spies and hired
informers, that O'Neill was on the point of returning from
Bome with papal bulls and Italian soldiers, to subvert the \

government of James I. Willing as the latter was to
oppress his Irish Catholic subjects, terrorism of this sort
helped to stimulate the volition ; and as for Chichester, it
procured him summary licence to plunder, transplant, and
otherwise persecute the professors of the old religion. We
may, therefore, easily imagine what must have been the
condition of the Catholics of Dublin during Chichester's
deputyship, and what presentiments must have filled the
mind of MacMahon on his arrival in the city, where,
instead of an archiej^scopal throne he was more likely to
find elevation to the scaffold. Church or chapel he had
none for the performance of his functions, and whenever he
celebrated mass, ordained or confirmed within the city-
walls, he had to trust himself to the honor of some stout-
hearted burgess, who incurred thereby all the fearful penal-
ties in which the harbourers of priests and bishops were
involved. Withal, he did fulfil his higli mission success-
fully, and although his ministrations were carried out clan-
destinely and in the slums of the city, his exhortations and
example did more, perhap, to confirm Catholics in their
lealty to the faith than if he had officiated or preached to
them in either of the metropolitan cathedrals.

Nor was there any want of a grand example to nerve the
archbishop and his flock for whatever might befal} them,
as long as Chichester had power to persecute, and as a
necessary sequence to make martyrs. Indeed, the year
after MacMahon's translation to Dublin, Cornelius O'De-
veny, bishop of Down and Connor, and friar of St. Francis*
order, then in his eightieth year, was arrested in the house
of a Catholic, in the very act of confirming children, and

I

1

THE SETSKTBENTH OENTUBT. 141

hurried to Dublin, where he was arraigned on a fictitious
charge of high treason, but in reality for exercising the
functions of a "Popish bishop." Tried by a jury, eleven
of whom were Scotch and English, as a matter of course,
he was found guilty, and sentenced to death, with all the
revolting accompaniments so common at that period. Flung
back into his cell, while preparation s were being made for
execution, Chichester offered him life and liberty provided
he took the oath of supremacy, but he spumed the proposal
and refused to compromise his soul. Truly pathetic, indeed,
are all the incidents of this aged prelate's death, and some
of them we may not overpass. On the momiug of his
execution, after blessing the poor girl who tended him in
his prison, he begged, as a last and crowning favour, that
she would dress his mutilated remains in the Franciscan
habit which he always carried about with him, telling her
that that coarse serge was dearer to him than the bishop's
purple. Haled through the streets on a hurdle, and fol-
lowed by a vast multitude, who knelt at every halt to crave
his benediction, as he sped on what he termed his ** trium-
phal procession," he at last reached the gibbet ; and mount-
ing it with steady step, as though heaven had braced his
paJsied limbs for the occasion, he told the spectators that
he was about to die for the faith, and that they should be
prepared, if necessary, to go through the same ordeal for the
same glorious object. Kadely interrupted by a fanatical
minister, who knew how the words of the doomed prelate
would tell on the hearts of the spectators, and chaUenged
to avow that he was about to pay the penadty of high trea-
son, 0*Deveny solemnly repeated his former declaration,
and then resigned himself, to the terrible process of strang-
ling, decapitation, and embowelling, all of which was per-
formed by an Englishman, the Irish executioner having
fled to avoid having any part in the bishop's murder. While
the slaughter was being perpetrated, the spectators remained
silent and motionless, as if petrified by the horrid spectacle,
but when it was done, thev flung themselves upon the lines
of halberdiers who kept tne ground, and forced their way
to the platform, where they struggled with each other for a
fragment of the palpitating flesh or a shred of the clothes of
him whom they now regarded as a martyr. Women dipped
their napkins, provided for that purpose, in his blood, and
onf man, more fortunate than his fellows, succeeded in

142 THE ZBIBH HIBBABCHY 127

carrying off the severed head, to preserve it, doubtless, as a
venerated trophy of that combat in which the vanquished
have always been declared victors. So died Cornelias
O'Deveny, on the north bank of the Liffey, in the year of
grace 1612. We know not what effect all this may have
wrought on Chichester's flinty heart, but it is certain, that
famiharity with such scenes served to intensify the devoted-
ness of Catholics to their faith, and to streuffthen their
abhorrence of a creed that was to be propagated by sweep-
ing the people off their lands, and consigning their spiritual
pastors to the hangman. It is more than probable that
MacMahon was in Sublin at the time of this execution, for,
notwithstanding Chichester's incessant efforts to lay hands
on him, he fortunately evaded them all. In fact, the arch-
bishop, one would think, must have borne a charmed life,
or at all events placed himself in the custody of friends who
were ready to sacrifice themselves in order to save him.
Small as the population of Dublin was at that period, the
chances of arresting such a personage were all the creator,
but yet, despite everv difficulty, he continued to labour for
his people, tending them, as nWC have already said, in the
purlieus of the metropolis, occasionally in the houses of the
Catholic nobility, and more frequently among the mountains
and in the dense woods, south of the city. Proclamations
of outlawry against priests and bishops were disregarded by
the Catholics, and the hired spy and informer too often
found, that the risk was in excess of the reward, however
tempting the latter might be. The deputy himself admits
all this m a letter which he addressed to lord Salisbury,
just one year before MacMahon's translation, and avows
that he was utterly unable to outroot the clergy.

'* If,*' says he, **some course be not speedily taken for
restraining of the bishops and priests, I cannot see how this
kingdom can long stand as it doth, for every city and town
is full of them, upon a strange apprehension they have
taken, giving it out, that it is the king's pleasure that they
should have the exercise of their religion, so it be not pub-
lic in the churches ; and when an omcer or a soldier lays
hold on a priest within their garrison. Jot none else toill iay
hands on them, the young men and women of the city or
town where he is taken, do flock together, and with ill-
nsa^e and blows, do make rescue of the party apprehendedU
If I have observed anything in the time I have spent, m

THE BBVSNTSBNTH CENTUBY. 143

this kingdom, I may say it is not lenity and good works
that will reclaim these men, but an iron rod ana severity of
justice^ and seeing the law hath not here provided for the
uprooting and punishment of these firebrands of sedition,
the priests, we can think of no other remedy, but to pro-
claim them and their relievers and harbourers for traitors."

Notwithstanding these restraints, we find MacMahou
presiding at a provincial synod in Kilkenny, in 1614, and
in the same year Chichester, writing to secretary Winwood,
after relating his ill-luck in not being able to arrest one
Meaffh, a pnest just returned from Rome, gives us another
insight into the actual state of the country, and at the same
time an inkling of the noortal dread he had of O'Neill's re-
turn.

*' We are," says he, ** full of priests of this man's condi-
tion, practisers of sedition and insurrection, of which there
is not a greater worker than Owen MacMahoune, the
titulary archbishop of Dublin, son to Owen McCooley, who
is still in this kingdom, and often in this city of Dublin,
albeit I cannot get him, nor any draught upon him, though
I have offered largely for U, I do my best to discover their
plots and frustrate them, but without more help I shall be
soon wearied in a tempest, where commancu, law, and
proclamations are no use without the sword to make them
obeyed. AU this assures me they are hopeful of invasion
from foreign parts, and return of the fugitives."

This appeal for larger powers was answered by James I.^
in June of same year, when he sent his deputy the foUowo
ing ** instructions" : —

''Whereas the priests, who are the chief corrupters of the
nobility and gentry of that realm, do employ many turbu-
lent and working spirits from beyond the seas daily to
maintain the party of ill subjects at home, and send forth
others to bring Tyrone hack, and other active traitors, with
some foreign K>rce8, to begin a rebellion, hoping vainly to
e£fect that with the sword which tiiey cannot gain by
practioe; and though these messengers can do no other
office than blow at coals, yet they continue to keep the
subjects and Jugitives in some hope of the wished innova-
tion, which our other good and loyal subjects do most fear.
Wh think it expedient, and do hereby require you to im-
print and proclaim a proclamation for tne baniiediing of
these firebrands, the pnests and Jesuits."

144 TBI IRISH HIXRABCHT IN

NotwithstaDcUng the king's proclamatioii, MaoMahoni
remained in Ireland, as nearly as we can calculate, till
about 1620, for his ^vemment of the see of Dublin stretched
over a period of mgh eight years, at the termination of
which he repaired to Rome, uter committing his flock to
the care of a vicar. Thinking, probably, that lapse of time
would render James considerate to his Irish Catholic sab-

t'ects, the archbishop spent tiiree years in the eternal ci^,
coping, as we may suppose, to be able to return, but he
was seized with fever and died there, on the 24th of Augaat^
1622, in the 53rd year of his age.

Chichester was recalled in 1615, but before retiring he
had attainted the fugitive earls, confiscated Ulster to the
crown, and erected forty new boroughs, to facilitate the

Eassinff of extreme penal measures against the Irish Catho-
cs. His successors in office, Jones, Denham, and Oliver
8t. John, proved themselves unrelenting persecutors, en-
forcioff the oath of supremacy, and mulcting the " papists,**
who, Decause they would not frequent the Protestant
churches, were thenceforth designated Recusants. During
the administration of lord FalkJuund, whose tenure of office
lasted over eieht years, the same harsh measures were
carried out witn more or less severity ; and although some
writers have given this nobleman credit for leniency and
forbearance, ne had little or no claim to either one or tiie
other. It was in the second year of his deputyship that
Urban VIII., at the earnest request of the deigy and
people of Dublin, resolved that the see recently vacated by
the decease of Emer MacMahon should now be filled by
another member of a patrician family, in whose veinsy
however, there was haraly a drop of Celtic blood.

The baronial house of Fleming dated their arrival in Ire-
land from 1169, when they came, ''seventy heroes dressed
in coats of mail," to fight for the expulsed MacMnrcha,
and about nine years afterwards Richard Fleming built the
castle of Slane, and was killed there in an enoagement
with the native Irish. This baron was the f oipi&r ol the
Inmily which ever afterwards ranked amon^^ the most dis-
tinguished of tiie Pide ; many of them filling the highest
offices in tiie civil and military administration, and proving
themselves at all times strenuous upholders of the Ebglisa
interest in the land of their adoption. Singularly remark-
able for their piety, the banms of Slane built and endowed

THE SEVEITTEENTH CWSmTRT, 145

many churclies and monasteries within the territory they
had won with their swords, but none of them all deserved
better of religion than baron Christopher, who, in 1512,
restored the ancient -monastery where Dagobert, king of
Aiistrasia, was *' shorn a monk,'* in the seventh century,
and bestowed it upon the friars of the third order of St.
Francis. Like other Catholic families of the Pale, the
Flemings always espoused the cause of the English crown
in the protracted quarrels, with the native Irish ; and
during the wars of Elizabeth they maintained their heredi-
tary valour on many a bloody field, won or lost by O'Neill
and O'Donnell. Their fidelity, however, to the ancient
religion was as signal as their bravery ; for, despite every
effort to induce them to apostatize, they clung to it persis-
tently ; and when others of their rank took the oath of
supremacy, or played the hypocrite by frequenting the re-
formed churches, it never could be said that a sinsfe mem-
ber of the house of Slaner turned traitor to the Church of
his forefathers. One of them, indeed, acted unwisely, in
15S3, by aiding the arrest of O'Hurley, archbishop of
Xashel ; but that baron ever afterwards bewailed his over-
zealous loyalty, when he found that he was instnimental,
though unintentionally, in procuring the archbishop's woful
death. To heighten his chagrin, a roving gleeman of the
period composed a ballad set to a dirge-like air, which he
called "Slane's Treason," and we can imagine how , the
baron felt on learning that the song was evexy where sung,
not oaly within the Pale, but far beyond it, north and
south in the country of the " Irish enemy."

Thomas Flemlos, third son of William, sixteenth baron
of Slane, a friar of the order of St. Francis, was the person
named by the pope to succeed to the vacant archbishopric
of Dublin. This Thomas, when a mere stripling, proceeded
to Louvain, where he entered the convent of St. Anthony,
long before he attained the age prescribed for making reli-
gious Y0W8. Devoting himself entirely to philosophical
and theological studies, he rapidly acquired great repute
for profoimd learning, so much so, that he was soon pro-
moted to the chair of lecturer, and in this capacity it was
his good fortune to have for scholars, Oolgan, author of the
Acta Sanctorum; Patrick Fleming, his near kinsman,
author of the Collectanea Sacra, and many others whose
works reflect honoor, not only on the order to which they

146 THB IBISH mXBABCHYIir

belonged but also on tbeir common country. Before h«
had reached canonical age, youus Fleming was sent by his
superiors to teach philosophy and theology in the school of
Aix-la-Chapelle, and on being promoted to priesthood, he
was appointed euardian of St Anthony's. His lai]ge
acquirements and profound piety, made character for him
at Kome, and won for him the respect of Urban VIIL, who
ordered his consecration to be performed with as little
delay as possible, although he had not then attained hia
thirty-iirst year. The Pontiff's orders soon reached
Lou vain, and accordingly Thomas Fleming was consecrated
ardbbishop of Dublin, on the 30th of December, 1623, by
James, archbishop of Malines, and Florence, archbishop A
Tuam. It was with great reluctance he took upon hinoaelf
the di&;nity to which he was now raised, and greater, if
possible, was the regret with which he retired from the
tranquil little Flemuh convent, where he left behind him
such ioving and learned friends, and above all, his nephew
Thomas, who, had exchanged his terrestrial for an eternal
inheritance, and renonncedhelmet and glaive, for a cowl in
the cloister of St. Anthony's.

A few months after his consecration, the archbishop
arrived in Dublin with extensive powers from the Pope,
relating to the time and intervals of ordination, and autho-
rity to confer holy orders on the sole title of " mission,"
dispensation having been granted in those of benefice and
patrimony f to meet the exi^ncies of the Irish Churdi. His
first abode in the metropous was with his brethren of St.
FVancis ; not indeed in the grand old convent of the ordei^
for it had long since been razed, but in a humble house
which they rented, and where they were suffered to celo-
brate the divine offices privatelyf and under the most stem
restrictions. Withal, the archbishop carried out, as far as
was practical, the observance of the ricid discipline he had
embraced in his youth, wearing the haoit withm doors, and
under the episcopal robes when officiating, maintaining
abstemious diet, and sleeping on a hard pallet, like the rest
of the fraternity. This was his ordinary style of life, from
which he never departed, whether staying with the poor
community in Dublin, or in the ancestral castle of Slaneu
Nevertheless, we have it on the authority of one who was
personally acquainted with him, that ms manners were
gracef uly and his genial and warm hearty won the respect o(

THE SEVENTEENTH CENTRUY. 147

all classes, so much so, that they applied to him, what had
been so justly said of another great man of the same fra-
ternity.

**.... Clara de stirpe parentum,
£t meritis clarior ipse suis."

Respect, however, for noble lineage did not disarm the
bigotry of the executive, for in the very year of the arch-
bishop's arrival, a proclamation apjieared, ordering all
popish prelates and priests to quit the kingdom. But
priests and people had grown so accustomed to manifestoes
of this sort^ that the only heed the former gave them was
to disperse for a. while, and wait tiU the excitement had
subsided. In fact, instead of quitting the kingdom, mem-
bers of the religious orders came into it from Spain and
Flanders, and among the rest, a community of Capuchins
established itself for the first time in the metropolis, in
1623. As for the Franciscans, the archbi^^hop caused them
to open schools for the young, and not only for them, but
for aspirants to the priesthood, who were thus provided
with lectures in philosophy and theology. This, indeed,
was a hazardous experiment ; but Fleming was too devoted
to the welfare of his flock to be scared from discharging
his high mission, by Falkland's threats or proclamations.
Passionately fond of the ancient literature of Ireland, he
generously entertained brother Michael O'Clery in the con-
vent of Dublin, and it was under that poor roof that the
chief of the Four Masters found bed and board while tran-
scribing a goodly portion of the material which was sub-
sequently inoor))orated in the ** Annals of Donegal." To
his brethren in Louvain he extended the same patronage,
and it is to his fostering care we are indebted for Colgan's
<* Triadis Thaumaturges,^^ a fact gratefully acknowledged
by the author, who states that the archbishop transmitted
to him many a rare book and valuable record, without
which he could not have completed his noble work. These,
surely, are evidences of an intellectual nobility, which, in
that transition period, strove to maintain the honour of Ire-
land, by preserving and perpetuating ite ancient literature.
Notwitnstanding the proclamation to which we alluded,
there was an interval of three years, during which the arch-
bishop had opportonity to attend to his flock, with hardlv
any let or hjjidrance ; so much so, that he officiated with

148 THB nUQSH HDEBARCHT tS

more or less publicity outside Ms own diocese, at the con-
secration of Boetios Egan, bishop of Elphin, which took
place at Drogheda, in 1626. In the year following, how-
ever, Falkland found pretext for enforcing coercive measures
in the reluctance shown by the Ulster Irish, to take mili-
tary service under the Protestant crown of Denmark, and
still more so in a strange rumour, that the eldest son of the
late earl of Tyrone was about to return to Ireland, as
monarch of the reahn, under protection of the king of
Spain.

^* It is given out," wrote the deputy to lord Killultagh,
'*that Tyrone hath his crown delivered him, not of pea-
cock^s feathers, as his father's was, but of pure gold, and
constantly lies upon his table at his bedside, in his chamber,
at Brussels." With the dread of this imaginary king
before him, the deputy pressed on the government the ne-
cessity of considering ** Whether indulgence from the laws
and promise of toleration of religion be seasonable," and
concludes by asking permission **to rack one Glassney
O'CuUenan, a priest,'' who dissuaded **the idle swords-
men of Ulster" from emigrating, and was supposed to be in
complicity with O'Neil at Brussels. About a month after
receipt of this application, the privy council answered:
'* You ought to rack and hang the priest if you find reason
for doing so, for such is the opinion of the council and his
majesty's pleasure." Falkland carried out his instmctions,
and during the remainder of his term of office dealt rigor-
ously with the catholics, whom, for their supposed symiiathy
with tiie Ulster pretender, he regarded in the light of
mortal enemies. In the midst of such difficulties, however,
Fleming remained constantly among his flock, tending it as
well as ne could, and observing a prudential course, which,
for a while screened the Catholics from open outrage. But
only for a while ; for in 1629, the poor Franciscan church
In which the archbishop officiated, was entered during the
celebration of mass, by a posse, under command of Bulkeley,
the Protestant archbishop, who cast down the image of St.
Francis, desecrated the altar, and scattered the congrega-
tion with halbert and musket. The Catholics, it is true,
resented this cruel insult, and compelled Bulkeley to take
shelter in a neighbouring house ; but their just indignation
was severely punished by closing of the three churches
which they had in the city, and sequestratiou of the school

THE SEVENTEENTH CBNTUBY. 149

whicli they maintained in Back-lane. In the following
year, however, Fleming obtained permission to re-open the
Franciscan church ; but as for the Back-lane school it was,
by order of the lorjds justices, incorporated with Trinity
College, and so remained till the appointment of the earl of
Strafford, who restored it to the Catholics. In 16*31, the
archbishop seems to have enjoyed comparative quiet in the
exercise oi his functions ; for at that period he interdicted two
English secular priests — Harris and Oaddell ; and by & public
instrument to be read in aU the chapels and oratories of
Dublin, forbade the Catholics, under pain of excommunica-
tion, to be present at their masses. Harris satirized the friars
in a series of scurrilous tracts, and maintained that the arch-
bishop showed a decided preference for them, to the exclu-
sion of the secular clergy. Father Patrick Cahill, too,
then parish priest of SS. Michael and John, and vicar-
general of the diocese of Dublin, being suspected of having
published a book of verses, reflecting on the archbishop,
was suspended from his functions ; but after the lapse of
some time, he was reinstated on the representation of
Dease, bishop of Meath, who pronounced that a cleric of
his diocese wrote the objectionable poem, and that the
parish priest did not cultivate the Muses. We mention
these incidents summarily, in order to show that the arch-
bishop, at this period, was suffered to discharge his high
office with little or no restraint. During Strafford's adminis-
tration, when the great object was to raise money for the
king, policy dictated the wisdom of treating the Catholics
with forbearance, and we may presume that Fleming's
exalted position found some show of respect from the lord
deputy, who detested the fanatical party then fast rising to
power in England and Ireland. Then again, if the pre-
sence in the Irish parliament, of a member of the arch-
bishop's family could mitigate the severity to which he and
his flock had been subjected, that benefit was made avail-
able to both in 1634, when William, 19th baron of Slane,
was summoned to take his place in the councils of the
kingdom. We have already stated that Thomas, 18th
baron, had transferred all his rights and privileges to his
brother William, and taken the habit of St. Anthony's at
Louvain ; and it may not be out of place to notice here,
that the writ which awarded to ** William the plade of his
father deceased, was issued with a salvo jure to said Thomas,

150 ^^lE IRISH HIERAItCHT.

slioalcl be or his heirs return to Ireland and re-assnme the
title of lord Slane, in which case William could take no
acVantage or benefit by said writ." Thomas did return, as
we shall see, but not to claim the title or style of baron of
Slane.

The parliament of 1634^ however, did nothing for the
Catholics, who, notwithstanding their number, the high
character of their representatives, and large subsidies which
they had given to the king, in consideration of the ** graces'*
or removal of grievances affecting their religion and estates,
were overborne by the deputy, who treated them with high
contempt. Nevertheless, Strafford in some instances en-
deavoured to conciliate them ; and in order to show how
much he had their interests at heart, he commanded the
Protestant bishops and their chancellors to desist from
fining them for having their children baptized, and theii
marriages solemnized by priests of their own faith. This
poor concession was, indeed, a boon to the Catholics ; so
much so, that they and their prelates regarded it as an in-
stalment of the ^'graces," and the commencement of i^
new and better era. Influenced by this proceeding,
Fleming assembled a synod, in which he confirmed the
ordinances of a former synod, at which MacMahon, arch-
bishop, presided, and made various regulations for the
spiritual government of his province. The principal sub-
jects mooted on this occasion were the publication of bans of
marriage, contributions for the support of the bishops, and
limit faculties, which, owing to the necessity of the times,
had been given to the regulars, who then, and for many
years afterwards, discharged all the duties of missionary
priests. Solely intent on raising money for the king, by
inquiries into defective titles, high commission courts, and
other infamous devices, Strafford allowed the Catholics the
exercise of their religion within their churches, which to do
him justice, were not at any time, duriiw his tenure of
office, outraged by the fanatics, who, he nmiself teUs us,
employed their persecuting power "rather as an engine to
draw money out of the Catholics' pockets, than to raise a
right belief in their hearts."

Soon after Wandesforde's appointment to the deputyship,
Fleming held another synod at Tyrcroghin, and among
other subjects discussed at this assemblage was the prefer-
ence given in Salamanca and elsewhere, to Irish students

THE SEVENTBENTH GENTtTItY. 151

of ihe pale, while those of the northern and western
provinoes, whose fathers had sided with Tyrone in the late
wars, were treated harshly by the superior. This, indeed,
was an old grievance, for it formed the ground of a re-
monstrance which was drawn up by Conry, archbishop of
Tnam, and presented by Hugh O^Donnef, to Philip III.,
thirty-seven years previously. During Wandeeforde's ad-
ministration, the Catholics enjoyed the same indulgences
granted them by Strafford ; for the successor of the latter
was too much engaged in exacting subsidies for the king to
think of persecuting those on whom the largest amount
was to be levied.

Notwithstanding the excitement caused by the .discovery
and failure of the ^lot to seize Dublin castle, and the
persons of the lordis justices, who held the reins of govern-
ment after Wandesforde's recall, in October, 1641, the
Catholics of the metropolis were not molested or accused
ol symnathizing with O'Mdore, or the northern chieftains
engagea in thi^ attempt. Indeed, it would appear that
Fleming's flock displayed great loyaltv on the occasion ;
for just two months anerwards, when the Catholic nobility
of the pale assembled at Swords, to take measures against
the extirpation, with which sir Charles Coote threatened
them, we find father Patrick Cahill, parish priest of SS.
Michael and John, deputed by the said Justices with a
manifesto, inviting lords Gormanston, Slane, and others to
appear before them ; and what is still more remarkable,
this very priest had been previously employed by the exe-
cutive to negotiate with sir PheUm 0*l4eill, and other
leaders in Ulster. At lensth, however, when the justices
and their agents threw off the mask, and set about extir-
pating the papists by courts-martial, and hanging priests
without formality of trial, the Catholic prelates and nobility
seeing themselves exposed to certain death on mere suspi-
cion, assembled at Kilkenny, in May, 1642, and there confe-
derated for the defence of their lives, religion, and liberty.
O'Reilly, archbishop of Armagh, was the leading man in
this erand union, and as soon as his letters of summons
reached Fleming, the latter, unable to attend in person, on
account of illness, deputed father Joseph Everard, then
ffuardian of the Franciscan convent in that city, to act as
his proxy.

A short time after this first meeting, William, baron of

152 THX IBISH HIEBABCHT JS

Slane, and Lord Gormanston died in Kilkenny, and as soon
as intelligence of the decease of the former reached
Belgium, lather Thomas Fleming returned to Ireland, to
aid the newly-formed organization by his influence and
presence. This, indeed, was a memorable incident in this
history of the Confederates ; for the man for whose rights
to the barony Strafiford had made such special provisos now
re-appeared ; not, indeed, to claim the title, but to play
his part in the grand drama, as a simple f nar of St.
Francis* order. One who knew him personally lays great
stress on this fact, which is best told in his own quaint
language :

** Upon intimation of the affairs of Ireland, he left
Louvain and proceeded to Kilkenny, where he attended to
the public good, resorting from time to time to the house of
liis brother-inTlaw, the Viscount Clanmorris ; but, at last,
finding that things did not prosper in Kilkenny, he went to
the county Louth, and made up six or seyen score well-
armed men, and by witty and fine stratagems, took twelve
garrisona in that county. He spared no labour night or
day in that province. Either in their sleep, march, or
otherwise, where and when the enemy least expected, this
relipious warrior did come upon them, to thair mightie pTe>
judice, either taking by assault, or demuishing by nre,
their garrisons at the loss of their proper lives.''

As for the archbishop, now elected member of the
supreme council of the confederates, he appointed Edmond
O'Reilly vicar-general of his diocese, and then proceeded to
Kilkenny, where he took up his abode with his bretiiren of
St. Francis' order. There in that poor convent, he observed
strictest discipline and seldom left its precincts except when
public business demanded his presence in the house of
assembly. Towards the close of 1643, the confederate
arms were crowned with signal success, so much so that the
chief strongholds of the kingdom, Dublin and some of the
other seaport towns excepted, were entirely in their posses-
sion. Indeed, the metropolis itself must have surrendered,
had the supreme council acted with energy, or rather, if it
had not among its most influential members manj of lord
Ormond's kinsmen and dependents. At this momentous
crisis — when the Catholics nad three well-equipped armies
in Leinster, and when ** the forces of the English govern-
ment were so oppressed wi^ wants, and the discontent of

THE SKVTSmTEENTB. CEKTITRT. 153

their officers so great, that there needed no other enemy
than hunger and cold to devour them" — lord Ormond
managed to bring about a cessation of hostilities, and ini-
tiated that clever policy which enabled him to sow the
seeds of division in the confederate council. The latter
were credulous enough to believe him sincere in his over-
tnres for a peace that would satisfy all their requirements ;
and in order to hasten that end, they sent their Commis-
sioners to meet him near Castle Martin, on the 23rd of June
of the aforesaid year. The instrument empowering the
commissioners to treat with Ormond was signed by Flem-
ing, and we might attribute this false step to nis instinctive
loyalty to the English crown, if we did not find Malachy,
archbishop of Tuam, subscribing the same document. The
rati^cation of the articles was subscribed by Flemine in
September following, and this compromise, made doubtless
with the beet intentions, proved fatal to the confederates,
for it caused them to halt, and lay down their arms at a
moment when they could have dictated their own terms to
tile viceroy. It is almost superfluous to observe, that the
latter soon afterwards violated this agreement by counte-
nancing the Scotch covenanters in Ulster, then nominally
under his command, and sanctioning the raids and massacres
of their leader, general Munroe. In the following year,
1644^ Father Scarampi, sent by Urban VIIL, arrived in
Ireland, in the capacity of papal agent to the confederates ;
and about the same time the king wrote to Ormond, urging
him to conclude a peace with uie latter. The business,
however, was adjourned from year to year by Ormond's
astuteness, and was not definitively agreed upon till 1646,
when the unfortunate monarch could derive no benefit
from it.

In 1644, Fleming subscribed the memorial, praying the
Pope to raise Father Waddine to the dignity of cardinal,
and we may easily imagine what pleasure it gave him to
beseech that high honour for so distinguished a member of
his order, whose literary labours and exertions in his
country's behalf richly deserved any reward the pontiff had
in his ^ft. Pretermitting all notice of that diplomatio'
juggle, designated the "Glamorgan treaty," we will now
turn to the after part of Flemings career, and follow it to
its close. At the time of Rinuccini's arrival in Kilkenny,
he had completed the twenty-second year of his archiepis-

154 TBI ntlSH HIBRARCHT IN

oopate, and it would appear that he himself was then
anxious to divide the care of hia see, or that portion of it,
tiien very limited, where he exercised jurisdiction, with a
coadjutor. The individual named for this dignity by the
Ormondist party in the supreme couneil of the confederates
was Edward Tyrrell ; and when the subject was first pro-
posed to the nunzio, in 1645, he deprecated the appoint-
ment, and wrote to Rome, that uie archbishop s only
ailment was '* obesity.*' In the following year he objected
to TyrreU, because me latter " was too much inclined to
favour lord Ormond,*' remarking at the same time, "every-
one imdstst that none but the most distinguished subject in
the kingdom should be promoted to so exalted a dignity.
In 1648, however, he prayed the Pope to promote Tyrrell to
the coadjutorship, alleging that his conduct in the French
court, where he was agent for the confederates, gave great
satisfaction to the et^esiastical party, but some months
later, in the same year, he revoked his former recommenda-
tions, and deprived him of all chance of the mitre.

As for the archbishop, he resided almost constantly in
KUkenny after the nunzio's arrival, and left his diocese to
the care of O'Reilly, his vicar-general, who administered its
affairs, spiritual and temporaL In fact, it would not have
been safe for him to stay in the metropolis, where Ormond's
hostility would have met him at every step, and the more
flo as the former knew that one of the nunzio's most
cherished projects was to get possession of Dublin, and
restore its churches to the catholics. There can be no
doubt that Fleming's devotedness to the nunzio, from the
first moment of their meeting, was sincere, and, as we shall
see, he subsequently proved himself a constant advocate of
the policy which the former laboured to carry out Thus,
in the congregation of the clergy at Wateriord, in 1646^ «
when the nunzio rejected lord Ormond's peace as a mere
device to delude the Catholics, then triumphant at Benburb
and elsewhere, the first name on the list of the twelve pre-
lates who protested against it is that of Thomas, archbishop
of Dublin. Again, in 1648, when fourteen bishops assem-
bled in Kilkenny to discuss Inchiquin's truce, Fleming
subscribed the instrument which denounced it as iniquitous^
and dangerous to the catholic religion. When, finally, the
advocates of that measure were excommunicated, and the
nunzio had pronounced sentence of interdict against all

THS SEVE17TEENTH CENTXTBY. 155

towns in which the censures were disregarded, Fleming,
who was then in Dublin, wrote to David Rothe, bishop of
Ossory, commanding him to have them observed, not only
in St. Canice's, but in all the other churches of his diocese.
'* As your metropolitan," so runs this stern order, I exhort,
admonish, and to the utmost of my power, command you to
cause said censures to be observed. Should you do other-
wise, I have exonerated my conscience, and leave yours to
the divine judgment, and the verdict of the a])ostolic see.''
At length, when the nunzio was about to leave Ireland,
the archbishop followed him to Gal way, and joined the

Earty who adhered to him in an ineffectual attempt to stay
is dei)arture. Rinuccini himself alludes to this in the
instructions with which he armed his confessor, Arcamoni,
who was then setting out for Rome, to rebut the appeal
which the Ormondists had forwarded to the Holy See : —
'*You will take care to report," says he, "how I have
been urged to stay in Ireland to save ecclesiastics from per-
secution, and you will not fail to mention how the arch
bishop of Dublin implored me with tears to abandon my
resolution." At this juncture it would appear that the
ftrchbishop was summoned to Kilkenny by the Ormoadist
council, but though he went there and caused the censures
to be observed in nis own convent, he refused to take any
part in their deliberations, which he treated with dignitied
contempt. Besenting this, they deposed his vicar-general,
O'E^illy, and substituted in his stead father l^urence
Archbold ; the sole fault laid to the charge of the former
being, as we are told, by a trustworthy witness, his obedience
to the nunzio and his proper metropolitan ; and if other
fault did appear, as did not, it was beyond any secular
power to' alter the dignity of such a place, and confer it on
another by lay authority, without advising with the arch-
bishop."

Cromwell's arrival in Dublin, in 1649, preventing the
possibility of the archbishop's return to the metropolis, or,
indeed, to any part of his diocese, he thenceforth employed
whatever energies he possessed in futile efforts to save
Ireland from the destruction with which it was threatened
by the usurper. Unable, by reason of illness, to assist at
the assembly of the prelates in Jamestown, which took
place in 1650, he empowered French, bishop of Ferns, to
act as his proxy ; and in the year following he was ap-

156 THE IRISH HIERAPCHT HT

pointed by lord Glanrioarde, then viceroy, to treat with the
duke of Ix>rrain, who propoeed to throw an army into
Ireland, on condition that he and his successors should be
declared its protectors, and indemnified for- whatever
they might expend in prosecuting the war against the
Gromwellians. Fleming took a veiy active part in this
business ; for, indeed, xne last act of what may be called
his religio-political liSfe was to writ^ to his vicar-general,
O'Reilly, whom he had reinstated, and also to Edmond
O'Dempsey, bishop of LeighUn, then the only Catholic
bishop in Leinster, exhorting them to exert themselves to
the utmost in promoting Lorrain's protectorate. Mean-
while, however, the negotiation was suddenly broken off
by the imprudence of lord Taaffe and the other commis-
sioners ; who, on reaching Brussels, were said to have
entered into articles with uie duke, exceeding the powers
given them by Clanricarde. At this crisis Sir Charles
Coote, at the head of the parliamentary forces, was march-
ing on Galway, within whose walls Fleming had taken
renige, hoping, perhaps, that general Preston, with the
wreck of the confederate army, would be able to hold the
town for Charles II. The ait^bishop, however, did not
live to witness the surrender of the place, for he died there
on the 2nd of August, 1651, after having governed the see
of Dublin twenty-eight years. The obsequies of this
illustrious prelate were performed in the Franciscan church,
and after nis funeral oration had been pronounced by
Walter Lynch, bishop of Clonfert, the mortal remains of
Thomas, archbishop of Dublin, were interred at foot of the
grand altar, which, in the following year, was pillaged,
and, by the parliamentarian governor, levelled. Stubbers
converted the monuments of the church into chimnev-
pieces, and had various fragments of the costly marbles sold
in England.

CHAPTER V.

On the 23rd of September, 1626, the obsequies of Hugh
MacCaghwell, archbishop of Armagh, were solemnized in
the Fraociscan Church of St. Isidore, at Rome. Brief,
indeed, was his tenure of the Irish primacy, for iu the very
month of his elevation he was seized with fever, while
making a pilgrimage to the patriarchal basilicas, and died.

THX SEVENTEENTH OXNTUKT. 157

ttfter a short illness, just as he was prepariog to set out for
Ireland. His remains were deposited in the crypt of the
church of St. Isidore, where John, earl of Tyrone, erected
a votive tablet to the memory of his friend and earliest
preceptor.

Hugh MacOaghwell was bom at Saull, county of Down,
about the year 1571. His 4)arents were poor, but, their
poverty notwithstanding, they did all in their power to
advance his early education, and when the boy grew up he
went to the Isle of Man, and remained there many years,
devoting himself to the study of classics and dialectics till
he was recalled to Ireland, by Hugh, prince of Tyrone,
who took him into his household, and appointed him tutor '
to his sons, Henry and Hugh. Under such an able master
those noble youths made rapid proficiency, and so highly
were MacCaghwell's senrices appreciated by the great
chieftain that he conferred the honour or knighthood on
him, made him his confidant, and offered him a command
in his army. MacOaghwell, however, having no taste for
the profession of arms, declined the honour. But there was
another department in which he could serve his lord and
chieftain, and when the latter proposed to him to accom- i
pany his son Henry to the court of Spain, in order to pro- (
cure aids for the Ulster forces, he willingly set out, and
faithfully executed the high commission with which he was
entrusted.

Visiting Salamanca, where the court was then stajring,
he frequented the far-famed schools of that ancient univer-
sity, and after attending a course of lectures in philosophy,
made up his mind to ia)andon diplomacy and all worldly
pursuits, for a quiet studious cell in the monastery of St.
Francis. One who knew him tells us that his novitiate, or
probation term, was worthy the most devoted son of St.
Francis, and that a better or more mortified man never
wore the poor habit of the order. Weak in body and suf-
fering from constant ailments, he refused every little in-
dulgence offered him by the community, ever and always
insisting that he had entered the cloister to learn how to
suffer and accustom himself to penitential austerities. At
the close of his novitiate, he was ordained priest, and a few
years later saw him promoted to teach theology in the uni-
versity of Salamanca, where he earned the character of a
ripe scholar, ** acute, grave, inodest and sublime." From

158 THI IRISH HIERASCHT IN

Salftnuuica liia superiors sent him to Louvain, to fill the
chair of philosophy, audto aid the erection of St. Anthony's,
where he had for his pupils Fleming, Colgan, and other
great men, whose names are famed in the pages of Irish
uterature. At length, being summoned to Rome, in 1623^
he set out in company with father Patrick Fleming, and on
his arriyal in that city was appointed deiinitor-general of
the Franciscans, and honoured with the chair of theology
in the convent of Aracoeli. His high character had preceded
him, and Urban VIII., who cultivated literature, and es-
teemed all labourers in the same field, welcomed him as a
valuable accession to the schools of the eternal city. In-
deed, so highly was the poor friar esteemed by the pontiff
that there was no favour which the latter would refuse him ;
so much so, that when he and Wadding proposed to erect
a college for the education of Irish secular priests. Urban
not onfy entertained the project, but commended it warmly
to cardinal Ludovisi, who generously founded and endowed
that establishment, l^or was this the only religious insti-
tution in^ whose erection he was instrumental, for he had
' long since co-operated with Florence Oonry, in founding
St. Anthony's, at Louvain ; and now that he was at Rome,
even Wadding availed himself of his valuable services in
completing the building of St. Isodoro.

Meanwhile, his pen was not idle, for to his Life of Scotus,
published in 1G20, he now added many other volumes,
vindicating the doctrines of the **subtile doctor," and
proving, if indeed proof were required, that the great
philosopher of the fourteenth century was ably represented
by his most enthusiastic and zealous apologist in the seven-
teenth. While occupied in these metaphysical specula-
tions, MacCaghwell was not unmindful of his countrymen
serving in the continental armies ; and, in order that they
might not want wholesome reading in their native tongue,
he wrote for their benefit a valuable little treatise, styled
** The Mirror of Penance," which, however, was not pub-
lished till 1628.

Towards the close of 1625, the see of Armagh, being
vacant by the death of Peter Lombard, who departed this
life, after a sojourn of many years at Rome, pcpe Urban
resolved that no time should be lost in providing a successor
to that learned prelate. The pontijQE^ was strongly urged to
bestow the Irish primacy on Ross MacGeoghegan, a ^stin-

THE SEVEITTSEKTH CENTUBT. 159

gnished hiarof St. Dominic's order, whohad already donedg-
nal service to religion in his native land ; but notwithstanding
all the interest that was made for this eminent man's promo-
tion, he was passed over, at the joint solicitation of John
O'Neill, earl of Tyrone, and Albert Hugh O'Donel, earl of Tyr-
connell, who represented to the pontiff the incoi^ruity of
appointing any Pale's-man, no matter how great his meritc^
to the metropolitan see of Ulster. Urban was influenced by
the remonstrance of the Irish princes, who desired nothing
80 much as MacCagh well's promotion, and he was accordingly
consecrated archbishop of Armagh in 1626. We have
already stated that his illness was brief, and we may add,
tiiat he himself had a presentiment that it was to prove
fSfttal ; for when the pontiff's physician visited him, he deli-
cately declined his kind offices, alleging that all remedies
were useless in his case, as he knew he was dying. He then
wrote ^ the pope that he ought not to appoint any one to
the see of Armagh, without consulting the earls of Tyrone
and Tyrconnell ; and having done this he requested to have
the last sacraments administered to him. At his bed side^
in the poor cell of St. Isidore, were two brothers, Edmond
and Anthony Dungan ^ both Franciscans, and his most inti-
mate friends. Turning to the former, he calmly observed:
''I have always teen weak of body, and am now about to
leave this world ; to you, then, I bequeath my cross and
ring, and to your brother I leave this poor habit, all that I
have to give." Then, fixing his last look on a picture of
St. Anne, which was sent him from Sicily, and grasping the
crucifix, he resigned his soul to God, and his renown to the
Bchools. No one could have been more affected by his pre-
mature death than pope Urban, who, on hearing of it, re-
marked, '* We have lost not a man but an angel ; ' and with
equal truth did Vemuleus, in his panygeric of this prelate^
observe, ** The life of great geniuses is like that of flowers^
brief and transitory ; and the purple is oftener tho apparel
of death than of life."

During the episcopate of Peter Lombard, who could not
return to Ireland, the primatial see was governed by Bothe^
Inshop of Ossory, in the capacity of vice primate ; and on
the death of MacCaghwell, he was empowered to perform
the same duties, till Urban YIIL should think it time to
fill the vacancy. As may be supposed, the exiled Ulster
princes used all their innoenoe to have the priiiutcy com*

I

160 THB IRISH HIERARCHT IN

ferred cm ft man of their own province, and the pope,
willingly granted their prayer. Accordingly, the person
selected for the highest dignity in the Irish Church was
Hugh O'Eeilly, bishop of Kilmore, son of Malmorra and
Honora, the one a lineal representative of the ancient house
of Breffny-O'Reilly, and the other, a member of a junior
branch of the same princely race. Hugh, their youngest
SOD, was born in 1580, and received the rudimenia of gAvl-
cation under the paternal roof, where he made rapid pro-
gress in the study of classics and philosophy. His father
wished him to join some of the Irish regiments then serving
in the Spanish Netherlands, but he preferred ecclesiastics
life ; and after completing his theological course in Ireland,
was ordained priest in 1618. He then set out for Rouen,
where he prosecuted the study of canon law in the same
school with the justly celebrated John Lynch ; and having
distinguished himself in every department of academic lore,
and earned the reputation of a rare scholar, he returned to
his native diocese, deprived of a bishop since the death of
Bichard Brady, and was appointed vicar apostolic of Kil-
more in 1625. Two years afterwarda he was consecrated
bishop of that ancient see, by Fleming, archbishop of Dub-
lin, in St. Peter's, Drogheda. During his government of
the see of Eilmore, Fleming of Dublin, Dease of Meath, and
other prelates, were engaged in a controversy about certain
exemptions on which the mendicant orders insisted as their
right ; and among the bishops who then decided in their
favour was Hugh Kilmore, wno, by an instrument signed
with his hand and seal, in June 1627, declared that the
Regulars were not bound to contribute, of the precarious
income, to the maintenance of the ordinary or of the parish
priests of the diocese in which their convents were situated*
In the year immediately following, Boyle, earl of Cork,
and Loftns, viscount Ely, were appointed lords justices, in
the absence of deputy Falkland, and these two un-
scrupulous persecutors availed themselves of their ample
powers to harass the unfortunate Catholics, fining them for
absenting themselves from the Protestant churches, and
having their children baptized by their rightful pastors.
Not' satisfied with this mode of extortion, they cave a sort
of roving commission to a staff of greedy officials, whom
they styled ** surveyors of bells and parish churches,"
empowering them to go through the country and report

THE SIVENTEINTH CKNTt^Y. 161

** on the state of religious edifices ;'' and while on this tonr
of inspection, '* to cesa themselves on the papudsfor chickens
and bacon, and to arrest all suspected dietaries of the
Bomish religion." On arriving m the neighbourhood of
Kilmore, where, in virtue of their high powers, all the hen-
roosts and hog-styes were placed under contribution, they
were informed that Hugh O'Reilly, a popish bishop, had
presumed to exercise his functions in that quarter, ordain-
ing, confirming, and administering other sacraments; and
they at once resolved to carry him to Dublin, if they could
lay hands on such a daring delinquent. The bishop, how-
ever, took refuge in the homesteads of his poor flock, and
notwithstanding the temptation of large rewards, the
executive could not induce any one to surrender him to his
enemies. How often, in those evil times, have the Catholic
prelates found, in the poor cabin of an Irish peasant, that
shelter and protection which they could not hope to get
within the moated mansions, inhabited by wealthy lords of
their own communion 1 Another incident, which we cannot
omit, will show that, at the period of which we are writings
the life or liberty of a Catholic bishop weighed very lightly
in the estimation of an English lord-deputy or his sub-
ordinates. '

Wo must first, however, premise that the pope, after a
year's deliberation, resolved to confer the primacy on Hugh
Kilmore, and that the bull sanctioning his translation ta
the archiepisoopal see reached Ireland in 1627. Neverthe*-
less, he did not exercise primatial jurisdiction before 1630,
as the pallium was not sent to him till the last-named
period, when he was succeeded in the see of Kilmore by
iSu^ene Sweeney. Let us now revert to the incident to
which we have alluded.

When about to leave the scene of his earliest labours,
Hugh, now archbishop elect of Armagh, asked father
CahiU, parish priest of SS. Michael and John, to get a
Dublin artist to make two seals, one bearing the arms of
Kilmore, for the newly-appointed bishop, the other for
himself^ with the arms of the primacy. Cahill executed
his commission, but no sooner were the lords justices made
aware of this simple fact, which they regarded as an
illegid assumption of ecclesiastical titles, than they issued
a warrant for the arrest of the priest, whom, as they could
not lay hands on the principal delinquent^ they flung into

M

162 TKB IRISH HIBBABOBT IV

the dungeon of Dublin Castle, from which he foitniiately
escaped after a lenffthened imprisonment. We mention
this circumstance solely to show how intolerant was the
bigotnr of the Government at the period, and how delighted
those justices would have been to trample under foot Hugh,
archbishop of Armagh, if he had the misfortune to cross
their path. As for him, be it told to his honour, he was
not unmindful of what Cahill had suffered in his behalf ;
for, at a subsequent period, when the poor man was en-
tangled in some difficulties about canonical institution in
his parish, the primate generously came to his rescue^ and
had him rehabilitated.

On taking possession of the see of Armagh, O'Eeilly's first
act was to convoke a synod of his clergy at Drogheda^ where
among other ordinances he enacted stringent laws against
the use of chalices made of tin and other base metals ; for
the plunder of the churches and the confiscation of six
counties in Ulster, after the attainder of the earls, had im-
poverished both clergy and people, and compelled the former
to celebrate the divine service as best they could, and with-
out strict observance to the rubric, as far as altar require-
ments were concerned. Another matter of no less interest
to hu pastoral vigilance was the depravation of morals then
pervading all chuses in the see of Armagh ; for the new
colonists, or *' undertakers,'' as they were called, had im-
ported with them vicious habits hitherto unknown to the
Irish. To gnard his poor flock against such corruption and
contagion, O'Keilly laboured incessantly, and it was his
good fortune to find his efforts crovmed with success ; for
the survivors of the wars of Tyrone not only clung with
fidelity to the religion of their fathers, but kept themselves
uncontaminated by the profiigate example of the plantera.
While tiius reforming the discipline of the clergy, sad recon-
ciling the dispossessed laity to their hard lot, O'Reilly had
to proceed with greatest caution, frequently administering
confirmation in the woods or on the hill-sides, and occa-
sionally resorting to some shieling for the celebration of
Mass. Withal, m the face of those multiplied difficultiesi
he bore himself courageously as beseemed a great archbishop^
with the blood of an ancient and noble race in his veins.
When the representatives of the old septs grew wiathf ol,
and would have thought it not ill done to shiy tke '' nlan-
teis* for whom they had been evicted from their ri|^tfiil

THB SXVSNTEENTH CENTURY. 163

inheritance, he had only to instance the calamities which
had befallen his own family and kindred, in order to stay
the uplifted hand and angry blow ; but when he addressed
himself to their religious sensibiUties, and showed that
suffering and oppression have ever been the portion of the
predestined, and that God, in his own good time mi^ht
foreclose the term of endurance, they listened to him with
reverence, and drew hope and comfort from his holy coun-
sels. For fully eleven years before the rising of 1641, arch-
bishop O^Reilly was obliged to discharge aJl the functions
of his office as it were clandestinely ; for, to say nothing of
the anti-catholic settlers who were then scattered , over
Ulster, the principal towns of his see were garrisoned by
troops, who, in their fanatic horror of prelacy of any deno-
mination, would have deemed it a goodly act to imprison or
hang him. We can, therefore, understand how the foresaid
term of his primacy is not characterized by any of those
demonstrative proceedings which would have been insepa-
rable from his oignity and position under other and better
circumstances. There is, however, one fact connected with
the early ye^rs of his archiepiscopal government which we
may not jtass over, namely, his earnest but unsuccessful
attempt to have the Gregorian calendar universally received,
not only in his own diocese, but throughout all Ireland. In
fact, he was the first Irish bishop who endeavoured to sup*
plant the old Julian computation ; but his efforts did not
sncceed, as the attempt was generally viewed in the light
of a strange innovation.

Pretermitting all notice of the cruelties and bitter oppres-
sion which more immediately instigated the insurrection of
1641, we have only to state, that archbishop O'Reilly,- like
the other members of the Irish hierarchy, did his utmost to
testrain the violence of the people, who would have wreaked
vengeance on their persecutors, had they been left to their
own wild instincts, at that momentous crisis. With Sir
Phelim O'Neill and Magennis, lord Iveagh, he employed bin
great influence, urging them to keep the armed multitudes
m check, and to prevent, as far as in them lay, the massacre
and pillage of Protestants. Such salutary restraint, enforced
by the exhortations of the primate, produced most happy
results; for the northern chieftains, and the rude array tney
commanded at the first outbreak, respected him too much
to violate the lessons of forbearance and charity which h«

164 THE IRTSH HIERARCHY TN

perseveringly incalcated. It ia not our province to deal
with the gross misrepresentations which have been written
of the conduct of the Irish insurgents at this period, or with
the calnmnies heaped on the head of Phelim O'Neill and his
followers, for they cannot stand the test of historical critl-
cism ; but we may safely assert, that archbishop O'Reilly's
interposition saved many a life, and protected innumerable
homesteads from fire and sword. Borlase, Temple, and
others, have utterly ignored his interference on oehalf of
the Protestant colonists, who were then wholly at the mercy
of the insurgents ; but we have only to repeat that the
exaggerations of those writers would wear some show of
truth, if O'Reilly had not interposed his high authority to
curb the tierce impulses of men ^rown desperate by reason
of the flagrant injustice with which they nad been treated
by the canting ^laves and bigots who then misgoverned
Ireland.

At length, when the revolution had spread through the
midland and Munster provinces, and the lords of the pale
found it necessary to arm for their lives and freedom of
religion, O'Reilly bethought him that the movement might
be waped into a national organization, which, if supported
by an efficient parliament, treasury, and army, would be
able to sustain the king against his enemies, and secure for
the Irish Catholics the repeal of all those odious laws, which
ground them down since the apostasy of Henry VIII.
This, indeed, was a grand idea, worthy the brain of a great
statesman, and never since then, or before that period, has
Ireland produced a greater prelate than he who originated
the catholic confederacy.

Devoting all his energies to this grand object, O'Reilly
convened a provincial synod at Kells, early in March, 16^
when the bishops declared that the war undertaken by the
Irish people, for their king, religion and country, was just
and lawful. In the May following, he caused a ncUional
synod, comi>osed of prelates and lay lords, to meet at Kil-
kenny, where, after naving ratified their former declaration
they framed an oath of association, to be taken by all their
adherents, binding them to maintain the fundamental laws
of Ireland, the free exercise of religion, and true allegiance
to Charles I. Both synods were attended by the entire of
the Irish hierarchy, either personally or by proxy, with the
exception of Thomas Dease, bishop of Meath, whose eventful

THE SEV£lfT£SNTH CENTUUT. 165

history is inseparably associated with that of Hugh,
archbishop of Armagh.

The family of Dease is one of some antiquity in the
county Westmeath, where they possessed considerable
landed estates early in the fifteenth century. They were
also seized of a goodly property, in the county Cavan, and
the head of the family, in 1596 and 1630, was Laurence
Dease, father of Thomas, who, on the death of his elder
brother, succeeded to the entire estate. This Thomas was
bom in or about the year 1568, and from his earliest boy-
hood resolved to embrace the ecclesiastical profession.
Having completed his studies at home, where ne earned
reputation as a poet in the Celtic tongue, and made himself
thoroughly master of classical literature, he was ordained
priest, and then proceeded to Paris, where he graduated in
theoloffy, philosophy, and canon law, and was honoured
with the title of doctor in each of these faculties. Paris
was the first scene of his clerical career, And in that city he
devoted himself to the performance of the most irksome, yet
charitable offices that come within the sjihere of a missionary
priest. At length, his piety, learning, and gentle breeding
made character for him at Home, and Gregory XV. raised
him to the see of Meath. Dease was accordingly consecrated
at Paris, in May 1622, and arrived in Ireland towards the
close of the following October. On taking possession of his
diocese, he convened a synod of the clergy, and after ex-
horting them to co-operate with him in reforming many
abuses then prevalent, he warned them of the necessity of
proving themselves loyal subjects to the English govern-
ment in all things compatible with conscience. Unqualified
loyalty was the fixed and ruling principle of his hfe, and
nothing would have been more paradoxical in his eyes than
an attempt to subvert any government, no matter how
despotic or unjust. If anything were wanting to heighten
Dease*s respect for English rule, at the period of which we
are writing, he found it, doubtless, in his constant asso-
ciation wi^ his maternal relative, Richard tenth Baron of
Delvin, in whose mansion he resided nearly twenty years
after his elevation to the see of Meath. belvin, it must
be recollected, was, in his hot youth, ** a rebel," but worked
his reconciliation, and saved his estates by turning traitor
to O'Neill and 0*Donnell, with whom he had, according to
bis own cottfesHotif plotted, in 1607i to subvert the govern-

166 Tin IRISH HIERARCHY IN

ment of sir Aiihar Chichester. Orown old and very
religious, he regretted the past, and like many another
pardoned revolutionist, found it safest policy to make a
parade of his loyalty, and to denounce on all occasions the
abettors of any attempt at insurrectioD. The iuterests of
the prelate and the baron were in most respects identical,
for both were ze^dous sons of holy Church, and both were
in the peaceful enjoyment of a. large estate. Religion
counselled obedience to higher powers, and prudence sug-
gested that neither of them ought to compromise a fair
inheritance by manifesting discontent or sympathy with
'* the dispossessed," whose main object was to recover their
forfeited lands. Dease, in fact, was one of those prelates,
whom Rinuccini describes as, *' Timid, satisfied with mere
toleration, and content at being allowed to perform their
few functions privately, without mitre or vestments, thus
preserving the substance of the faith, and keeping them-
selves clear of all risk."

Actuated by such sentiments, Dease preached submission
and obedience to the constituted authorities; and injustice
to the latter it must be admitted that they did not trouble
themselves about him or his fiock as long as they had kept
aloof from the insurrection. When, however, the people of
Meath did take part in the general movement, Dease lound
that his pacific homilies had gone for nothing ; for, notwith«
standing his praiseworthy efforts to save the residence and
library of Martin, Protestant bishop of Meath,' from des-
truction, the armed multitude, instead of obeying, told him
that he had already overstepped his authority in forbidding
them to go to the assistance of Sir Phelim O^Neill, while
the latter was besieging Drogheda. What we have now
stated will account satisfactorily for Dease*s reluctance to
take any part in the organization set on foot by the primate
whose summons to meet the prelates assembled at Cavan,
Kilkenny, and Armagh, either in person or by proctor, he

Sersistently disobeyed. The primate, however, would not
espair of gaining him and lord Delvin to the confederacy,
till he had exhausted his last resource, which was to send
Father James Nugent, a Cistercian friar, to wait on and
entreat them to join the movement. Fair words and gentle
exhortations failing, Nugent was authorized to threaten
both prelate and baron with the metropolitan's high dis-
pleasure ; but before resorting to the latter alternative, he
was instructed to employ all his powers of persuasion, in

THE SEVKNTBENTH CENTURY. 167

order to show that the newly-formed confederacy had
within it every element t^at was required to insure ultimate
triumph. Vainly, however, did Nugent urge that Owen
0*Neill, with a numerous staff of officerb, was coming home
to supersede the fierce Sir Phelim, and discipline the raw
leries which had rallied' round the latter ; that Father
Wadding was getting larse subsidies from the cardinals at
Rome, for prosecuting me war against the enemies of
Catholicity and the king ; that the Irish troops serving the
crown of Spain had laid up at Antwerp a considerable
supply of arms, purchased with the savings of their pay ;
and finally, that the pope countenanced the movement, nay,
blessed it, and promised to sustain it. But all these
arguments were lost on Dease; for, after remarking that the
condition of a country is never so hopeless as when it has
to trust to foreign invasion for redress of grievances ; he
shrugged his shoulders, and silenced the pleader by quoting
that text in which divine wisdom rebukes the improvident
and overweening — ** What king about to make war with
ailbther king, doth not first sit down and think whether he
be able, with ten thousand, to meet him, that with twenty
thousand, cometh against him ?"

In fact, Dease looked on the whole project as imprudent
and chimerical, and he consequently flouted it. Delvin,
however, did not view it in this light ; for, although Dease
would fain persuade him that Nngent's threats were not to
be heeded, the baron submitted to the primate's counsels,
and affected to join the other lords of the Pale, if we may
credit a contemporary narrative of one intimately acquainted
with all the events of the period. The immediate conse-
quence of Delvin's pretended adhesion was an interruption
of the friendship that had so long subsisted between him
and Dease, who then betook himself to his mansion of Tur-
botston, where he resided many years afterwards.

Meanwhile, archbishop O'Eeilly had the satisfaction of
seeing the confederacy strong and prosperous, supported by
a small fleet of its own, a strong army commanded by Irish
generals, who had distinguished themselves abroad, and the
sympathy of the pope and other continental Catholic powers.
In his capacity of spiritual j»eer he occasionally took part
in the debates of the supreme council at Kilkenny, wnere
he signed various commissions, and discharged other duties
of his position. His diocese, however, engrossed most of his

168 THE IRISH HIERAfiCHY IN

care, for he flattered himself that the organization, wHch
^as the work of his own hrain, would eventually realize
his highest hojies, and leave him free to sui)erintend his
spiritual charge, without involving him in |>oiitical brcils.
But in this he was mistaken, for soon after the arrival of
the nunzio, he began to discover .that the chief lay memhers
of the supreme council had taken upon them, by virtue of
some ancient privilege of the English crown in Catholic
times, to nominate bishops to tbs vacant Irish sees, with«
out consulting him or asking his sanction. This assumption
he deprecated in personal interviews with the nunzio, as
well as in letters to that personage; but the latter, while
ignoring any right of the supreme council to interfere in
such matters, uudertook the whole trouble of reporting to
Bome, on the comparative merits of the bisho{)s-de8iguate.
There can be no doubt that O'Keilly approved the nunzio's
general policy, and regarded it in every sense as best
adapted for remedying tne many grievances which weighed
BO heavily on the Irish Catholics, and for the removal of
which they were now in arms. Owen O'Neill was iihe
nunzio's favorite general, and this celebrated soldier was
O'Reilly's kinsman. The Ulster forces were the staunchest
of Rinuccini's adherents, and we need hardly say that the
majority of them was recruited within the immediate
jurisdiction of the primacy, on the hills and in the glens of
Tyrone, where the traditions of Hugh O'Neill's victories
were not yet half a century old. In a word, the brain and
muscle on which the nunzio built all his hopes of success
belonged to the northern province, and decidedly the most
influential and energetic man there at that period was the
archbishop of Armagh. His own immediate relatives, and
the followers of his ancient house, held high command and
served in the confederate ranks, and so great was the re-
liance of the Catholics on their valour and fidelity, that
when Malmorra, surnamed the Slasher, was slain on the
bridge of Fenagh, near Granard, in an encdunter with the
Scotch covenanters, his kinsmen carried his corse to the old
burying place, in the Franciscan convent of Cavan, and
there raised a monument, with an epitaph, which dolorously
set forth that Ireland lay vanquibhea in the same grave
with him —

«• LECTOR . NE . CREDAS . SOLUM . PERUSE . MILOKEM
HOC . NAM . SUB . TUMULO . PATRIA . VICTA . JACKT.«

THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 169

It is almost saperflaous to add that at Benbui'b, the
O'Beillys were in the forefront of that memorable battle,
and that Philip 0*£,eilly, Owen 0'Neill*s brother-in-law,
and kinsman to the arcnbishop, with his followers, helped
>-o achieve a victory unparalleled since the days of the
'Great Hugh*'— a victory, indeed, which, for a while,
made the nunzio fancy that the object of his mission was
accomplished, and established between him and the arch-
bishop a reciprocal friendship which outlived hopes, reverses,
and terrible disasters.

There is, however, another aspect of the archbishop's
character, which shall evermore command the admiration
of the Irish student and scholar, priest and layman. We
mean his patronage and encouragement of Cotgan, the poor
Franciscan of Ini^owen, who, in Lou vain, at nis instance,
commenced and completed the **Acta Sanctorum Hiber-
nisa" — a work which will perpetuate the name of the author
and his patron as long as men value great genius and pro-
found literary research. Gracefully, indeed, has Colgan
acknowledged his obligations to the archbishop, for he tells
us that, ** he cheered him on in his undertaking, and secured
for him the sympathy and aid of his suffragans." Col^ai^
and his community were poor, and had not wherewithal to
print the noble tome ; but O'Beilly, in order to eternise the
fame of the Irish saints, gave, out of his scant revenue,
moneys for the publication, and had the happiness of seeing
it inscribed with his own name. May we not imagine with
what complacency he perused those pajges in whi^ Colgan
so elegantly alludes to his princely origin ; the renown of
bis ancestors in ancient times ; their prowess in the battle-
field ; their munificence to church and cloister ; his own
promotion to his native see of Kilmore ; his elevation to the
primacy, and the hereditary valour of his kinsmen, who,
worthy of their sires, were then in arms for religion, king,
and fatherland. This, indeed, was a patent of intellectual
nobility which no monarch could confer.

Eeluctant to take any part in the debates of the supreme
council at Kilkenny, now that the nunzio was there with
his paramount authority, O'Keilly devoted Viinn^ftlf wholly
to his diocese, from which the Scotch covenanters had fled
to the sea-board, after the victory of Benburb. In fact,
his see had greater attractions for him than the arena of
tho senate^ and he does not appear to have coaoerued him-

170 THS IBISH HIBRARCHT IK

■elf with the lyroceedings of the latter, till the clergy
rejected Onnond*8 thirty articles, at Waterford, in 16461,
when he aent Edmond O'Teague, with full powers to act
as his proctor, and subscribe the declaration by which the
viceroy's trealrj^ was pronounced worse than useless.
Thenceforth, that is tul 1648, he seems to have been
nothing more than a spectator of the events which crowded
%o altematingly in that intervaL Intelligence of the schism
in the confMcrate council reached him from afar. The
only incident that could mitigate such calamity was ^the
success that attended the arms of his kinsman, O'l^eill,
who, at the nunzio's summons, marched rapidljr from
Gonnaueht into Leinster, and after beating Incniquin and
the paniament general, Jones, saved Kilkenny for the
Catholics. Those, however, were but momentaiy triumphs;
vfdueless in their results, and no wise compensating the
division and discord that were fast breaking up the grand
organization on which he had calculated so hopefully, but;
alas I so falsely. Let us now leave him for a while, and
resume our notice of Dease.

Inflexible in his egotism, thia prelate kept aloof from the
general movement, calmly watchins passing events, tend-
ing his diocese, under peculiar diBadvantages, and looking
to the goodly estate which he had inherited. In this
comparative isolation he had grown very old and feeble ;
so mudh so, that in 1646, the nunzio wrote to Rome, that
he was at the point of death, and that he, Dease, was
anxious that his nephew, Oliver, should be apxx)inted
coadjutor in the see of Me(tth. The nunzio's forebodings,
however, were not realized ; for, six months after the date
of that letter, he and the bishop were at variance about an
appointment which the latter had made to the ancient
monastery of Tristemagh. Dease collated one Gerald
Tuite to the priory ; but the nunzio, acting under instrac-
tions from Rome, resolved that that person should be
removed, to make way for father Andrew Nugent, a canon
reeular of St Augustine, to which order the place belonged
before the suppression of religious houses. This, how-
ever, was but a trifle compart to the charge which the
nunzio laid at Dease's door, alleging that he and the bishop
of Dromore had blown the coals of enmity between generals
O'Neill and Preston, and so inflamed the mutual dislike of
both, that Dublin was lost to the confederates by their
want of union.

THB SJEVENTEBNTH CENTUBT. 171

Two years afterwards, that is in 1648, Dease grew more
infirm, and made his will, when some one informed the
nunzio that he was really in extremis, and beyond all hope.

Hearin|; this, he wrote to Rome— '* The bishop of Meath
died in his eightieth year, to the great advantajge of tMs
kingdom ; for he was a man who held opinions little short
of heretical ; and old as he was, I was obliged to threaten
him with a citation before the holy see." But, in about a
month after the despatch of this angry missive, he dis-
covered that he had been misinformed, and he thereon wrote
again to Eome — '* The bishop of Meath is not dead, but has
been spared to try the patience of the good V Dease,
indeed, did recover, and when grown convuescent, proved
himself more than ever contumacious to the nunzio. Oliver
Dease, his nephew, it is true, subscribed th^ rejection of
Ormoud's peace, in 1646 ; but as for the bishop, his name
does not appear in the proceedings of the confederates, till
the nunzio published sentence of excommunication against
all supporters of Inchiquin's treaty, in 1648. Foremost
among the prelates who stood by that fatal measure was
the archbisnop of Armagh ; but of all those who main-
tained that it was uncalled for, and ruinous to the common
interest^ none was more demonstrative than the bishop of
Meath. With the nunzio were Owen O'Neill and his
Ulster army, and arrayed against both were Preston and
his Leinster forces. It was, in sooth, a sad battle ; for on
the same field were now arrayed against each other, soldiers
and theologians, the cope against the corslet ; the spiritual
against the carnal weapon ! No sooner, however, had the
foresaid sentence appeared, than the party of the supreme
council opposed to the nunzio drew up seven queries,
touching the validity of the censures, and submitted them
to Bothe, bishop of Ossory, that he. might pronounce upon
same, for quieting of their consrience and preservation of
the commonweal. Rothe theroon returned his celebrated
answer to said queries, and satisfied the opposition that the
nunzio was in the wrong, an 1 had exceeded his powers.
But in order that nothing fihould be wanting tiO confirm
this pronouncement, Rothe s ibmitted his decision to Dease,
who, after maturely weighing all the arguments and objec-
tions advanced byhisfnenl, signed a public instrument,
in which he declared that the nunzio's excommunication
was null and void, natura vi . % well as by reason of the

172 THB IRISH HIERARCHY IN

appeal whicli had beea forwarded to Rome. In a word,
Dease treated the nuuzio*B sentence with contempt, and
decided that Ossory's *' Answers** should be published,
'* as conducive to the interests of the crown, and inculcat-
ing true allegiance to the civil government^ according to the
laws of God and his Churah.*'

In this conflict of opinions and arms the year 1648 wore
out, and in February of the following year the nunzio set
sail from Ireland, leaving behind him a people whose utter
want of cohesion could not but involve them in speedv ruin.
To avert the latter, Ormond had been recalled to take the
reins of government in Ireland ; and nine biihops, trusting
to his promise of protection for reli^on, life, and estate,
issued circular letters to their respective dioceses, exhorting
the people to support the viceroy, who, to use their own
language, was sure to win '* the green laurel of peace," and
triumph over the OromweUians. De Burgh, archbishop of
Tuam, was at the head of this party, and Dease, among
others, followed in that diguitaiy s path.

The primate, we need hardly say, objected to those pro-
ceedings, and kept himself apart from the bishops who had
gone over to Ormond, and made light of the nuncio's com-
mands. But a bitterer and heavier affliction than their
defection had come upon him in the midst of this turmoil ;
for on the 6th of November, 1649, Owen O'Neill died in
the castle of Philip O'Reilly, at Clouehouter; where, in
the words of his secretary, *'he resigned his soud to God, a
true child of the Catholic religion, in full sense and memory,
many of both secular and regular clergy assisting him m
snch a doubtful transit." As soon, however, as the primate
had bestowed the last honours on the great soldier, and
seen him laid in the cemetery of the Franciscan monastery
of Oavan, he hastened to Clonmacnoise, to preside at a
synod of nineteen prelates, assembled under the shadow of
that venerable ruin, when he subscribed a proclamation
beseeching the Irish people to nnite for the preservation of
their religion, king, and country. But such appeals to

Eatriotism and loyalty were of little avail ; for Cromwell
ad already won Dublin, Drogheda, Wexford, and other
great advantages. Withal, the archbishop, hoping against
hope, presided at other synods, convened for the same pur-
pose, at Loughreagh and in Jamestown in 1650 ; and in the
last of these he was appointed one of the commissioners who

THE gIVENTEKNTH CENTURY. 17*3

/

undertook to make a final effort for religion, kins, and
country. The prelates with whom he acted bad Belected
Galway as the safest place for their deliberations, and be
remained there for a brief space, taking part in the councils
of his .colleagues, who now saw no remedy for Ireland,
ei^cept the protectorate so generously offered by the Ca-
tholic duke of Lorraine, and which, we need hardly obserye,
was repudiated by the advisers of Charles the second, who
would sooner see Cromwell master of the whole island than
any Catholic potentate. Having set this negotiation on
foot, the primate empowered O^Cullenan, bishop of Raphoe,
to sijni for him as his proctor, and then took his departure
for Trinity Island, in Lough Erne, where, after closing a
life of saddest reverses, he resigned his soul to God, a.d.
1652, JST. 72. Some generous friends, who consoled his
last moments, thought it a pity to leave his remains far
away from the old Franciscan monastery of Cavan, and
they accordingly had them removed unostentatiously, and
interred in the same grave with Owen 0*]Seill and Miles
the '* Slasher." Sure^ it was well thought to lay the
bones of so true a prelate in the same soil with the great
chieftains of his own race and kindred 1

One year before 0'Reilly*s decease, Dease died tranquilly
in the Jesuits* house at Galwav, for he had fled to that
city thinking that his friend and henchman, general Pres-
ton, would be able to hold it against the parliament.
Fully satisfied with his past political life, he declared, in bis
last moments, that he had nothing to regret or retract ; and
thus he passed away, after having received all the sacra-
ments of the Church, and made his will, in which he pro-
vided for the future wants of his diocese, by leaving money
for the education of clerics, or, as he calls thpm '* church-
men,*' who, it would appear, were to oe members of his
own ancient house. Whatever his errors may have been,
there can be no doubt that he was a learned and zealous
pastor, and those who differed with and survived him had
reason to admit that his application of the gospel parable
was not altogether mistaken. His remains, followed by
the Jesuits, to whom he was a benefactor, were interred
nnder the threshold of the sacristy of the collegiate church
of St. Nicholas, Galway, where his friend and admirer, Sir
Bichard Boilings, raised to his memory a monument, for
vhich he composed the following epitaph : —

174 THE IBISH HIBRARCHT IN

"•IN . LACHRTMAS . OCULOS . HIBEKNIA . SOLVE . GADATQUB

HJEC . HECATOMBK . SUPER . PRiESULIS . OSSA . TUI
HIC . PIUS . HIC . PRUDENS . REGI . SUA . JURA . DEOQUE

REDDERE . CALLEBAT . DOCTUS . UTROQUE . FORO

BELLA . FIDEM . RKGNUU . COECO . DISCRIMIME . CUNCTA

MISCEBANT . FIXA . SED . STETIT . ILLA . PETRA

UETk . ILLI . 6RAVITAS . ET . MENTIS . AUABILE . PONDUS

ELOQUIO . DULGIS . GRANDIS . ET . INGENIO

INTERNA . VULTUS . RUTILABAT . GRATIA . FLAHILB

ILLI . ARDENS . ZELUS . SED . RATIONE . SAGAX

EXTRA . TALIS . ERAT . LUBERET . PENETRARE . SED . INTUS

OCCURRET . SERAPHHf . COR . IN . IGNE . MICANS

TANTA . ILLI . CAST^ . SEMPER . CUSTODIA . MENTIS

UT . LIBARE . DEO . PR0MPTU8 . UBIQUE . FORET
SI . FLETU . POSSET . REVOCARI . TALIS . IN . AURAS
PRiBSUL . IN . STERNUM . LUMEN . UT&UMQUB . f L£BET.>«

CHAPTER VL

About the close of November, 1645, Rinaccini was re-
ceived at St. Patrick's gate, KUkenny, with all the honours
due to so high and puissant a personage as the nunzio
extraordinary accredited by the Holy See to the confederate
Catholics of Ireland. The clergy, secular and regular,
awaited his coming in and about the city gate, andas soon
as he passed under its arch, he mounted a richly- caparisoned
horse, and proceeded towards the ancient cathedral of St.
Canice, escorted by the municipal and military authorities.
It was a wet and dismal day, the like of which the Italian
had never seen in his own oright land, but notwithstand-
ing the rain, that fell in torrents, all Kilkenny was astir,
and thousands of the peasantry had gathered within the
walls to witness the showy pageant. J^our citizens, bare-
headed, upheld the shafts of a rich canopy, to protect the
nunzio from the rain, and as soon as he came in front of
the market cross, the procession halted, while a yoonff
student read a Latin oration, extolling the goodness m
pope Urban VIII., and welcoming his minister to the chief
city of the confederates. To una greeting the nunzio
replied in the language of the address, thankine the citizens
for the cordial reception they had accorded him, lauding
their devotedness to the holy see, and invoking heaven's
blessing on their struggle for relieion, king, ana country.
His words on this occasion were raw, but spoken with all
the fervid animation so peculiar to Italians^ and in the

THE SKYENTXBNTH CBNTUBT. 175

xich, h norouB cadences which characterise their prQunnoia-
tion of Latin. As soon as he had concluded, the procession
resumed its route without halting again till it reached the

great gate of St. Canice's, where David Rothe, bishop of
ssory, surrounded by all the minor officers of his cathearal,
some bearing lighted torches, others incense and holy
water, stood waiting the arrival of the nunzio. Aft^
mutual salutation the bishop handed him the aspersorium
and incense ; and then they both proceeded to the grand
altar, from which, after the prayers prescribed for such
occasion had been said, the nunzio save solemn benediction
to the vast multitude that crowded the nave and aisles of
the holy edifice. Thus met, for the first time, on the
threshold and altar-steps of St Oanice's, Bothe and
Binuccini, the one a feeble old man, in the seventy-third
year of his age, and twenty-seventh of his episcopacy,
spent by marvellous literary toil and incredible hardships ;
and the other, his junior by some twenty years, hale and
fresh from his archiepiscop&l principality of Ferino, and
knowing nothing of persecution for religion's sake, save
what he had learnt of it in the lives of the saints, or from
the glowing frescos that decorated the w^ls of Italian
churches. Could it have occurred to either of these high
dignitaries that they were one da^ to part irreconcileable
opponents, and that the point of divergence for both was to
be that very altar at whose foot they now knelt together,
ohauking God for favours eiven, and supplicating him to
send the spirit of peace and concord into the hearts and
councils of the half -emancipated Irish Catholics? Some
there were, indeed, witnesses of this function who augured
little good could accrue to Ireland from the presence and
overbiaring influence of the Florentine patrician-prelate at
such a crisis in their country's destiny ; but there were
many who believed that he, and he alone, had the wisdom
that could save the people from ruin ; and so thoroughly
were they convinced of tnis, that» when all was lost, tney
attributed failure and defeat to the obstinacy of those
who slighted his advice and repudiated his policy. The
bishop of Ossory, however, far from sharing the sentiments
of the latter, entertained views totally different^ and Uved
long enough to see the metropolis of lus diocese surrendered
to Cromwell ; but not lon^ enough, unfortunately, to add te
bis published works a fair and impartial statement of th4

176 THB IRISH HTKRABCHT IX

cacuiefl that brought about siich a tenible and irretreivable
calamity.

The family from which this prelate descended was one of
reB])ectable antiquity in the city of Kilkenny, where they
held the position of opulent merchants early in the iifteenth
century, and for many generations afterwards. Indeed, it
is likely enough that the first of them came to Kilkenny
with tne first of the Butlers, and established himself there
under the protection of that puissant lord ; but be that as
it may, there is evidence to show that his descendants
were ever faithful and devoted retainers of the ereat house
, of Ormond. David, whose works were destined to elevate
and perpetuate the name of his progenitors and kindred,
and whose chequered life—extending over so considerable
a portion of the first half of the seventeenth century — would
be sufficient to interest us without his celebrity as a writer,
was bom in Kilkenny, in 1572, a year memorable in Irish
annals for the stout resistuice of the Creraldines in the
south, and the de Burgos in the western province, ta
Perrot, Fitton, and other armed preachers of the Be-
formation.

David and his brother Edward, sole survivors of eight
children, were left orphans when veiy young ; but owing
to the thrifty management of their guardians, th^ were
amply provided for on reaching man's estate. Edward
devoted himself to commercial pursuits, and David resolved
to embrace the ecclesiastical profession. There can be
little doubt that the latter received the earliest rudiments
of education in his native city ; and it is quite certain that
he repaired to the college of Douay for the study of Gre^
and philosophy. Having distinguished himself there, he
removed to Salamanca, where, on attaining canonical age,
he was ordained priest, after being promoted to the degree
of doctor in civil and canon law, and acquiring a thorough
knowledge of the Spanish language. It would appear tibat
he tarried a long time abroad, for, if we may credit a brief
notice of him, written by the celebrated John Lynch, he
did not return to Ireland till 1610, when he had completed
his thirty-eighth year. Long, however, before he set out
for home, the fame of his prudence and extensive acquire-
ments had reached the ears of Paul Y., who, on the sugges-
tion of Maffeo Barberini, appointed him prothonotary-
apostolio, vicar-general of Armi^h, in the abMnce of Peter

THB SEVKNTEBNTH CENTURY. }77

Lombard, then an exile at Rome, and, furtHermove^
empowered him to arbitrate sammarily on certain subjeots,
concerning which the Irish clergy, regular and secular, were
then at variance.

Honoured with such signal proofs of the pope's esteem,
ftothe reached Kilkenny, just three years after the memo-
rable flight of the earls, the apprehension of whose return
with an invading force, gave 2Sir Arthur Chichester, then
lord deputy, so many plausible pretexts for persecuting th^
Catholics, and their dignitaries especially, who were re*>
garded as emissaries sent by Rome to stimulate disloyally
and rebellion in Ireland. How disguised, or from which
of the Irish ports Rothe made his way to his native city haa
not transpired, but, doubtless, he must have been aided by
more than ordinarily favourable circumstances in eluding
the keen vigilance of the deputy, who knew well that he
Btuod high in the good graces of Paul V.

At the period of Rothe's arrival, the see of Ossory was
vacant, for Strong, its late bishop, banned and exiled from
Ireland for non-conformity, had died in Compostella, and
as it were, to heighten the misery of the people thus de-
prived of a chief pastor, Sir Arthur Chichester was carrying
out the iniquitous policy of James I., hunting down the
** papists,'* enriching himself with their confiscated lands,
and scattering, at the sword's point, whenever he found it
safe to do so, the congregations assembled for the celebration
of Mass. Kilkenny was more than once the scene of these
flagrant outrages ; but, Jiappil v for the citizens, the house
of Ormond had not yet entirely apostatized, and many of
its members still adhered to the ancient religion, and pro-
tected its worshippers.

Rothe, we need hardly say, was kindly regarded by lord
Mountgarret and Richard Butler, both sincere Catholics,
and their interposition enabled him to live in comparative
ease, and to discharge, though with greatest circumspection,
the onerous duties of his calling. Zealous in the fulfilment
of all priestly offices, and labouring earnestly for the spiri-
tual welfare of the faithful of Kilkenny, he, at the same
time, was an attentive observer of passing events, and took
special care to note down all the atrocities which Chichester
was perpetrating on the oppressed and plundered Catholics.
It was m the very year of Rothe's return to Ireland that
O'Deveny, bishop of Down and Connor, was committed

178 THB IltlSH HIERARCHT IK

prisoner to Dublin Castle ; and, although the latter was
guarded with lynx-eyed vigilance while waiting the mockery
of trial, Kothe, nevertheless, contrived to maintain a secret
correspondence with him, and to obtain from him some
valuable notices which he had written of those Irish arch-
bishops, bishops, priests, and laymen, who were either
executed or outlawed during the reign of Elizabeth, on
fictitious charges of high treason, but in reality refusing to
take the oath of supremacy. These notices, or, as the
bishop of Down styled them, ** Index Martyrialis," suc-
gested to Kothe the idea of a grand work on that terrible
persecution, and he at once set about compiling it from the
fragments which had thus luckily come into his hands, and
also from the oral testimony of many then living, who re-
tained distinct recollection of each and every one of those
who figured prominently, the ][>er8ecutor and {>ersecuted, in
that bloody and disgusting drama. While actively engaged
on this remarkable undertoking, he received letters from
the holy see, commending his zeal and prudence, and con-"
stitiiting him arbitrator between 'Kearney, archbishop of
Cashel and Paul Kagget, prior of the Cistertian monastery
of Holy Cross, who were at issue on some points of privi-
lege, and had frequently appealed to Home for the settle-
ment of their pretentions. Kothe, however, reconciled the
litigants, and so pleased were Maffeo Barberini and cardinal
Veralli, protector of Ireland, with the tact and address he
exhibited in dealing with a matter requiring so much
moderation and judgment, that they both wrote to congra-
tulate him on the result, signifying at the same time that
Paul V. had been fully informed of his efficiency and dis-
crimination. It is almost unnecessary to observe, that his
conduct on this occasion secured for hmi at Home two most
powerful patrons, one of whom, Barberini, was a distin-
guished poet and generous patron of literary men, and after-
wards ascended the Papal throne as Urban YIII.

We have already alluded to the work which he projected
with a view to perpetuate the names of the distinguished
men who suffered for religion during Elizabeth's reign ;
but it would appear that long before ap|>lying himself to
that most important underts£.ing, he had commenced to
write an Ecclesiastical history of Ireland, from the first in-
troduction of Christianity down to his own times, taking in
all those stirring eveata in which he himself was destined

THX 8SVXNTSBKTH CXKTUBY. 179

to figure 80 conspicuously. That he did not contemplate
the publication of this work during his own lifetime is quite
certain, for we are informed by one of his most intimate
friends, that he devoted fifty years to its compilation, and
left it read^ for the press some few ijponths before his
death. Of its ultimate fate we will have occasion to speak
hereafter.

Another work of kindred character to which he gave
many of his leisure hours was that which he s^led
** Hieroffraphia Sacra Hibemin," or a general ecclesiastical
furvey of Ireland, commencing with the history of Kilkenny,
and comprisiog notices of Irish saints, cathedrals, shrines,
dioceses, places of pilgrimage, anchorets, early seats of
learning, holy wells, rural deaneries — in a word, a series of
essays on Irish archseology, the great value of which is
apparent from the few fragments &at have been preserved
through the agency of transcribers. That Rothe did not
intend the '*Hierographia" should be a posthumous pro-
duction there can be no doubt, for after labouriDg at it m a
desultory manner for nearly twenty-one years, he placed
the introductory portion of it in the hands of a^Waterford
printer, with a view to its publication, but owing probably
to the distraction of the times, it was not destined to issue
from the press.

Keverting to the remarkable work, which we have
alreadv stated, was suggested by O'Deveny's memoranda,
and which Rothe published under the title of * * Analecta"
(Collections), and the pseudonym '*T. N. Philadelphns,''
the reader should know' that he divided into three parts,
each of which has a special scope. In the first, he describes
the terrible sufferings to which the Catholics were sub-
jected during six months of Chichester's deputyship. The
second he evidently meant for an exhortation to martyr-
dom, for it is addressed to those who were either already
marked out for that ordeal, or might, perhaps, have to
confess their faith in the face of persecution ; and the
third, and by far the most important part, he devoted to
the history and vindication oi those distinguished mem-
bers of the Irish hierarchy, clergy, and laity who suffered
for religion on the scaffold, in the dungeon, or in exile
during tiie reign of Elizabeth, and that of James I. There
is some difficulty about fixing the exact time when the iwo
firH parts of the *'Analeota'' were published; but m

180 THX ntlSH HIBBARCHT IIT

Rotlie dedicated them to O'Deveny, who was exectited im
161 1, it is probable that these mats were either going
through the prees, or had already appeared some time
antecedently to the bishop's death. Indeed, ^ there can
hardly be any donbt on this subject ; for the title to the copy
published in 1617 sets forth that it was a second edition^
enlarged and illastrated with notes; and Ware, whose
authority on such matters is unqueetionable, says that " it
was formerly printed,** thus intimating that there must
have been another and still eariier issue of the same work.
Our motive in dwelling at such length on this particular ie
to enable the reader to form some idea of the earnestness
with which Rothe applied himself to his task, and to show
how energetically he laboured at it, in the midst of multi*
jAied dangers, and the incessant duties of the priesthood,
which, in those evil times, afforded little or no opportunity
for the amenities of literature. As for the third part of the
'* Analecta," which deserves a more special notice we will
have occasion to speak of it hereafter.

Meanwhile, Rothe had the satisfaction of receiving from
cardinal Veralli, various letters, in which the latter signi-
fied to him, that the holy see wae highly pleased with his
conduct as vicar-general of Armagh : and still more so, if
possible, with the prudence and zeal he exhibited ae
prothonotary-apostolic in his own native diocese, where,
owing to his firmness nnd nooderation, the clergy, secular
and regular, worked together in harmony, and renounced
those mutual rivalries and pretensions which had hitherto
been productive of many lamentable results. Constant
and indefatigable in the discharge of all sacred duties, and
always acting with gravest circumspection, it was his good
fortune to elude the toils which were spread for him by the
spies and delators of the lord deputy, who did not deem it
politic to offend such personages as Mountgarret and
Richard Butlec, by laying violent hands on their proteg^.

Towards the close of 1615, Chichester was recalled, and
the king appointed, as hie suceessor, Oliver St. John, sab'
sequenuy viscount Grandison, who had special chanze to
eniorce the oath of supremacy and attendance of ''Recu-
sants" in the Protestant churches^ under pain of imprison*
ment or heavy fines. Chichester, it is true, had already
been instrumental in carrying out similar instructions ; but
being mainly intent on enriching himself, he waa le8»

THE SEVJEMTKBNTH OKNTUJIY. 181

fainatical than bis auccessor, who, some days before his ia-
atallation, declared in the hearing of many, that in the
course of a few years he would not leave a sinp;le ' * papist"
in Ireland. Doubtless he meant what he said ; for within
six months after his accession to office, the prisons of
Dublin and those of the provincial towns were overcrowded
with Catholics, who either refused to swear the oath of
supremacy, or were too poor to p.y the fine which was
levied on all those who absented themselves from the
Protestant service. As it is not our province to enter into
a detail of the hardships which the Catholics had to bear
dttrine Oliver St. John s deputyship, we will merely observe
that wat personage was not exceeded by any of his prede-
cessors in oigotry, intolerance, and utter msregard of all
forms of justice. Rothe, it would appear, had the manli-
ness to protest against the iniquitous conduct of his agents
in Kilkenny, where the craftsman was often obliged to
forsake his work to escape the collectors of the non-aitend'
ance Jlne ; and where a crowd could rarely assemble to
extinguish the fires, which, it seems, were then of frequent
occurrenoe in that city, without having their charitable
labours interrupted by the gatherers of uie odious impost.
Finding, however, that this remonstrance was of no avail*
Rothe published in £nglish and Spanish, a lengthened
statement of the deputy's cruel oppression of the Irish
Catholics, in the hope, we may presume, of enlisting the
sympathy of their English co-religioniste ; or what was of
greater moment, the merciful interposition of Spain or some
other Catholic continental power. We will not venture to
assert that kins James was at all influenced by this bold
denunciation of his deputy ; but it is certain that the latter
received fresh^ instructions, in which he was charged to
deal more lenientlv with the poorer order of the " papists^"
and to reserve all his higher powers for the extirpation, if
possible, of their bishops and other dignitaries. The kins,
mdeed, was constantly haunted bv the dread of an Irish
insurrection, which might be aided from abroad, and this
^ow of affected clemency was probably suggested by that
apprehension. The deputy was well aware of his master's
motives, and he consequently pursued the line of conduct
which he knew would be sure to please him. Thenceforth
the oath of supremacy was not so ^nerally demanded of
'* Recusants," the poorer classes ol whom were treated

182 THE IBI8H miCKABCHT IS

with indifference or forbearance. The fines for non-
compliance with the act of conformity were not so fre-
quently levied, and the Mass-houses, as they were con-
temptuously styled, were seldom visited by those impious
ruffians, who, in their affected zeal, deemed it nowise
dishonest to pillaee an altar, or to elay, if they were so
minded, the worshippers who knelt in its presence. This
clemency, however, was not extended to popish bishops and
other dignitaries of the Church ; and as Kothe belonged
to the Tatter category, and had incurred the deputy's
marked displeasure, his friends counselled him to remove to
France till some new phase in Europeai^ politics might
induce the king to deal more favourably with the Irish
Catholics.

It is not in our power to fix the exact time of Rothe's
de})arture from Ireland ; but it would appear that he was
in Paris towards the close of 1617* and that he brought
with him those unfinished Vorks at which he had been
labouring so long and indefatigably, with a view of conti-
nuing them in his tranquil retirement. On reaching the
French capital, where he was hospitably entertained oy a
wealthy citizen named Escalopier, he was induced to preach
the panegyric of St. firigid, and so eloquently and learnedly
did he acquit himself, that his eenerous patron requested
him to give a Latin version of the discourse, enlaiged and
amply annotated. To this he willingly consented ; but as
he was actively engaged in completing the third part of the
'* Analecta," the former did not appear till after Escalo-
pier^s death, when he dedicated it to his sons, Raymond
and Balthazzar, as a grateful tribute to the memory of their
father.

In the same city he met a kindred spirit, Messingham,
rector of the Irish college, who was tnen compiling the
work known as ** Florilegium InsulsB Sanctorum," or Oar-
land of Irish saints ; and, at the request of that author, he
contributed the dissertation ''De Nominibns Hibemie,"
to prove that Ireland was called Scotia^ and the Irish Scok^
or Scots, from the fourth to the thirteenth century. To his
learned liberality, Messingham was also indebted for the
Elucidations to Jocelin's '*Life of St Patrick,'' which were
also inserted in the Florilegium, and gracefully acknow-
ledged by the editor, who tells us that Rothe **wa8
thoroughly familiar with eveiy department of knowledge^

THE SBVENTEENTH OIJNTURY. 183

an eloquent orator, acute reasoner, profound theologian,
sharp reprover of vice, defender of ecclesiastical liberty,
vindicator of his country's rights, and faithful exponent of
her terrible wrongs."

While thus engaged earning for himself a celebrity that
raised him so far above the level of his Irish contemporaries^
Paul v., at the instance of Cardinal Veralli, and in consi*
deration of the eminent services he had rendered to religion
as a missionary priest and cultivator of literature, resolved
to promote him to the vacant see of Ossorv. The pope's
announcement was made in a consistory held in October,
1618, and in the course of a few months afterwards Bothe
was duly consecrated at Paris, just as he had entered on .
hhe forty-sixth year of his age.

There can hardly be. any doubt that he returned to Ire-
land immediately after his elevation to the episcopacy,
for, if we may rely on a memorandum of the " popish
derey," which was presented to the government in 1618,
Rothe was then in Kilkenny, in his capacity of " titular
bishop," often staying with his brother Edward, in the
well-known house at Wolfs Arch, and occasionally with
lord Mountgarret, in that nobleman's mansion at Balline.
Friends and protestors he had many, but it is quite apua-
jent that the Irish executive kept strict watch on hiv
movements, and was well aware of his haunts and har-
bourers.

The dignity, too, to which he was so deservedly raised,
exposed him to greater risks than any he could have en-
countered while acting as a simple missionary priest, and
discharging the duties of vicar-general of Armagh ; but his
prudence and circumspection, to say nothing of the patron-
age of the Catholic members of the house of Ormond,
enabled him to live in comparative tranquility, and to per-
form, unostentatiously, the various functions of his epis-
copal office. In fact, we may regard him as filling at the
same time two bishoprics ; for, along with his own see of
Ossory, he had also to covem that of Armagh, in the capa-
pity of vice-primate to Peter Lombard. In managing the
affairs of the primatial see, however, he was efficiently
aided by Balthazzar Delahyde, whom he appointed vicar-
general, and, notwithstanding the compulsory absence of
the learned Lombard, so often denoimced by the English
cabinet, the persecuted and plundered Catholics of Ulster

^.r

It4 THB IBISH HIXBABCHT IN

were tangbt to cling with nnchancing fidelity to the creed
of their forefathers. Within the limits of his own imme-
diate jurisdiction Rotlie exerted himself unsparingly, cor-
recting abuses prevalent among clergy and laity, exhorting
the former to prove themselves men of zeal and learnings
fit to guide their flocks by word and example ; and visiting
with condign punishment the few of the latter, who,
through apprehension of loss or love of gain had fallen
away from the faith, and died in apostasy and final impeni-
tence. To such he not only interdicted the rites of Chris-
tian sepulture, but even interment in the cemeteries of his
diocese, in order that the wavering and dissolute might
have timely warning, and be inspired with a salutary dread .
of an unhallowed grave, for whose tenant it would be im-
piety to shed a tear or say a prayer.

In Hie midst of the multiplied cares and responsibilities
which had now devolved on him, Rothe, far from discon-
tinuing his literary labours, toiled, it would seem, still more
energetically and rapidly at his favourite pursuit ; so much
so; that in the course of two years after his installation, be
had the satisfaction of completing three volumes, all of
which prove that he was a man of singular industry and
great critical ability.

In 1619 he gave to the world the third part of the Ana-
lecta, and in designating this the most important of Bothe's
published works, we do not exaggerate its value ; for,
indeed, nothing could be more painfully circumstantial or
historically accurate than the memoirs it contains of Creagh,
archbishop of Armagh, O'Hurly, archbishop of Oashel,
O'Hirlathy, bishop of Boss, and O'Deveny, of Down and
Connor, all of whom, with one exception, were put to
death for religion. The importance of this production was^
if possible, heightened by the appendix he added to it»
under the title of ** Diasphendon HibemiaB," or, in other
words, the Dismemberment of Ireland, in which he likens
the condition of the Catholic church to that of a human
body, bound between two trees, brought forcibly in contact^
and rent asunder by their violent resilience. This strange
title was suggested by a passage in Livius Florus, and
Hothe employed the figure of the two trees to represent the
pressure of the two acts of parliament, respecting the oath
of supremacy and liturgical conformity. As we will have
occasion to revert to thu work, we cannot dismisa this brief

THE SETSNTEBNTH CENTURY. 1$5

notice of it without mentioning that both volumes of the
"Analecta" were published at the expense of lord Mount-
garret

The volume on St. Brigid, with its exhortation to mar-
tyrdom, addressed to Irish students, then in ecclesiastical
seminaries, and its strictures on Dempster's misrepre-
sentations, appeared, as we have already stated, at Paris,
in 1620 ; and in the year immediately following, he pub-
lished, simultaneously at Rouen and Cologne, the work
entitled " Etibemia Resurgens," or ** Preservative against
the bite of the old Serpent," in which he exposes the
fallacies and plagiarisms of Dempster, the celebrated
Scotch philologist, who strove to rub Ireland of her earl^
saints, Dy malung them denizens of his own country. This
latter work appeared under the pseudonym of Donatus
Boirk.

Having' now laid before the reader a list of Rothe'a
im^/i^/iea works, it is necessary to observe that the '* Ana-
lecta,'^' the third part of it especially, was impugned, in
1624, by Sir Thomas Ryves, in his book, entiUed,
" Regiminis Anglican! Defensio,*' and also by Harris, in
his '* Writers of Ireland/^* both of whom charge Rothe
with havihg misrepresented the characters and motives of
those distinguished ecclesiastics and laymen who were put
to death in the reign of Elizabeth and James I. Rothe
asserts that they were itiartyrs to their faith, which they
sealed with their blood, and Ryves, Harris, and Cox would
have it appear they one and all were executed for high
treason. Rothe wrote a reply to Ryves, but, unfortunately,
it remained unpublished, and shared the fate of his other
manuscripts. Nevertheless, the gratuitous statements of
Ryves and Harris are amply refuted in the '* Analecta,'*
and more so, if possible, in the official d.ocuments relating
to those victims of intolerance and bigotry which have
recently come to light from the State Paper, and other
public repositories.

Had Ryves and Harris taken the trouble to look into
those historic records, it is possible that neither of them
would have been so dishonest as to attempt to justify the
slaughter of innocent men, by charging them with treason,
of which no tribunal, having the fear of God before its eyes,
could have convicted a single one of' them. Who, for
example, could have been more loyal to queen Elizabeth

186 THB IRISH HIABARCHY IN

than the unfortuDate Greagh, archbishop of Aimagh, or who
could have done more to curb the wild impetuosity of Shane
O^Neill than he did ? In fact, Creagh's letter from his
prison in the tower of London, to the lords of the privy
council, shows that he regarded Ulster as '*a barbaroiu
countrv," and that he did not hesitate to denounce Shane
O^Neillto his face in the cathedral of Almi^h, and by
doing so incurred the hostility of that proud chieftain, who
^we days afterwards set fire to the venerable edifice, and
burnt it to the ground. Shane*s threats could not shake
Creagh's allegiance to his ** natural princess,'* as he styles
queen Elizabeth, nor could thetemptmg offer ''of enjoying
more of Ulster commodities than ever did any archbishop
there since St. Patrick's time," induce him to sanction
Shane's fierce inroads ''on her majesty's heretic guhjeda of
ike PdU.^^ Archbishop Creagh, in fact, cursed (excom-
municated) him in the open field, refused to be the bearer
of his letters to the king of Spain, communicated to the
deputies Sussex and Sydney all that he could learn of his
preparations "for burning, killing, and spoiling the English
pale, accordiug to his cursed custom ;" and had finally to get
out of Ulster as best he could, to escape the terrible con-
sequences of his fidelity to the English crown. And yet
this learned prelate, so pious and submissive, who conclupea
aJl his appeals to the mercy of the privy council by " wislung
her majestv and all the realm as much wealth and prosperity
of soul and body as ever had any prince or realm," was for
no crime of his, but solely for '* his hindering the arch-
bishop of Dublin's godly endeavours to promote the refor-
mation," sent from the castle of Dublin to the tower of
London, where, after many years of unparalleled miseries,
he died of poison given him by his keeper. Who can doubt
that Creagh might at any moment have advanced himself
to honours and wealth had he been disposed to compromise
his soul by subscribing the queen's supremacy; or who
that has read Rothe*s vivid sketch of his sufferings in the
foul dungeons of Dublin castle and London tower, can
refuse him the well-earned title of martyr ?

Nor does the charge of treason by which Byveli and
Harris would justify the execution of O'Hurly, archbishop
of Cashel, rest on anv other foundation than most gratuit-
ous assertion. Indeed the official correspondence of the chief
actors in that revolting tragedy shows he had no political

• THE SEVENTEKNTA CENTtrRY. 187

mission from Home or Spain, and that his deatk, with
all its horrible concomitant, was brought aboat by Loftus,
who could neither win him over to the reformed religion,
nor induce him to countenance it. Betrayed by Fleming,
baron of Slane, who subsequently figures in a letter of the
deputy, sir William Fitzwilliams to Bdrghley, as ''a person
well affected towards her majesty's service," and whose
kinsman (of the same name) undertook, in consideration of
a bribe from Burghley, to ciesassinate Hugh, earl of Tyrone,
O'Hurly was flung into the prison of Dublin castle in
October, 1583, and detained there till July of the follow-
ing year, under hard restraint, and deprived of ordinary
comforts. The charge on which he was arrested was
alleged treason committed in foreign partb ; and the Irish
crown-lawyers, takiue this into consideration, and doubt-
ing whether he could be found guilty, the law not
stretching in this particular so far as it did in £neland|
resolved, as he had neither lands nor goods, that he ^ould
be executed by martial law rather than by an ordinary
trial.

Foreseeing what his fate would be if arraigned before
such a tribunal, twenty-four burgesses of Dubnn, availing
themselves of a statute passed in the reign of Edward IV*,
memorialized to have him delivered to them on bail,' in
order that he might have the benefit of the common law,
to which, as a civilian, he was fully entitled. / But their
application was refused, and the lords justices wrote to
London for instruments of torture wherewith to force their
victim into a confession of guilt, as the only evidence)
. against him was one Barnwell, who had been with him av
Bome, and who had made his peace with the govemmen;!*
by renouncing popery, and conforming to the new religion.
That O'Hurly could have saved himself oy following the same
course is quite certain ; but he would not. Consequently,
the only alternative left him was a revolting deatih, pre-
ceded by agonizing torture, concerning which Adam Loftua
and Sir H. Wallop, in their letter to sir fVancis Walsing-
ham, wrote thus : '* We made commissions to Mr.
Waterhouse and secretary Fenton to put him (O'Hurly) to
the torture, such as your honour advised us, which uhm to
toast his feet against the fire with hot boots.** This diaboli-
cal proceeding was quickly followed by the court-martial ;
for archbishop Loftus was apprehensive that bis victim

\

168 THX XKISH HUKUUmr IH

might escape him on Perrot's aocesnon to the deputyshipi
In order, therefore, to deprive the prisoner of every chAnoe,
either of life, or of a new trial by ordinary law, he cauned
him to be put to death just two days before he vacated the
office of lord justice, as he himself tells us in his offidud
report, from which we make the following extract :

'* We thought meet, according to our direction, to pro-
ceed with him by court-martial, and for our farewell, two
days before we delivered over the sword, being the 19th ol
June, we gave warrant to the knight-marshal, in her
majesty's name, to do execution on iiim. Hurley, which
accordingly was performed, and thereby the reaUn well n^
of a most pestilent member, who was in an assured expeo-*
tation of some means to be wrought for his enlargement, if
he might have found that favour to have had lus time pro-
longed to tJie end of our govemmtntj*^

Assuredly, then, the diarge of treason against 0*Hur]y
was not sustained by any r^able evidence ; and the very
fact of killing by sentence of court-martial in a country
governed bv law, was nothing short of warfare, in which
justice selaom or never has any part. Was not itothe,
therefore justified in styling him a martyr ; nay, and tlie
most distinguished of those singularly great men, whose
tribulations, constancy, and triumphs shall live for ever
more in th^ pages he has consecrated to their memories ?
As to O'Deveny and others who perished on the scaffold,
as Rothe describes, we have iucontestible evidence that
they were done to death by corrupt judges, pei^ured
witnesses, and jurors, designedly empanelled for their de-
struction. Writers like sir Thomas Ryves, indeed, never
will be wanting to vilify the characters and motives of
catholics of every grade, and especially of those who were
sacrificed to lawless tyranny and fanaticism ; but histozy
will eventually vindicate their fame ; and many a docu-
ment that has lain for ages in the dust of public and
private archives will turn up to confute and silence their
unscrupulous slanderers. As for the *'Analecta,'* which
has led us into this long digression, we may remark, that
it had considerable circulation on the continent, and that
O'Sullivan, when writing his *' Historia Gatholica,"
borrowed largely from its pages. It is almost superfiuouit
to add that such a work was well calculated to excite th^
sympathy of foreign Catholics for their Irish oo-relgionistew

THE SSVBNTKXNTH CBNTUKT. 189

Resnming our notices of Rothe'a go^ernmeDt of the see
of Ossory, we may state that, although obliged to act with
extremest caution during the latter years of Oliver St. John's
deputyship, he, nevertheless gave ample proof of unwearied
zeal and great administrative ability. Like most of his
contemporary prelates, he was often compelled to hold con-
iRrmations in the woods and on the hill-sides, and to celebrate
the divine mysteries in the open air or under the roof of a
shieling improvised for the occasion. The people, however,
who knelt before that mde altar, or listened to his exhorta-
tions in some secluded glen, respected him as much as if he
had been addressing them from the pulpit of St. Canice's ;
for they not only venerated him in his episcopal character,
but also for those extraneous endowments which had ren-
dered his name famous among the celebrities of the time.
At length, on the accession of lord Falkland, when the en-
forcement of the penal statutes began to be somewhat
relaxed, he availed nimself of such favourable opportunity,
to hold frequent synods of the clergy, in which he enacted
di9ciplinary laws for their guidance, and originated an
association, the grand object of which was to aflay^ dissen-
sions and unite the entire body of the Irish priesthood,
regular and secular, in harmonious action for the preserva-
tion of the people and their ancient faith.

Onerous, however, and exacting as his episcopal duties
must have beien, it would appear that he did not abate his
application to literature, for ne devoted all his leisure to the
completion of the "Hierographia," and the " Ecclesiastical
History,** of which we have already made mention. Such
pursuits naturally involve the additional labour of extensive
correspondence with learned men at home and abroad ; and
it is pleasing to be able to record, that the celebrated Ussher
not only communicated with him through the medium of
letters, but acknowledged himself indebted to his erudition
and research. Rothe recognised the Catholicism of genius,
and respected it wherever it appeared ; so much so, that
the protestant archbishop of Armagh, on consulting him
either abont disputed dates or excerpta which Rothe had
made from manuscrints in continental libraries, had no dif-
ficulty in obtaining tne desired information. Indeed, it is
likely enough that Ussher borrowed from him some folios of
the ' *Hiero^aphia, " and took from that work the verses on Stb
Liviaus^ which he has inserted in the "Sylloge," and grace-

190 THX IRISH HIESARCHT.

folly acknowledged thus : ** These elegiac stanzas, glossed
by Rosweyd, were commnnicated to me by Rothe, a most
diligent investigator of his country's antiquities." The
same kindly relations were maintained by those singularly
eminent men while (Jssher was engaged on his *' Primordia,
in which he elegantly compliments Rothe, from whose
works, published and unpublished, as he tells us, he had de-
rived very great assistance. How creditable to him were
such encomiums, at such a time and from such a man as
Ussher, whose writings shall always command the homage
of those w)io respect great genius and learning of the moat
extensive order !

While engaged on such congenial pursuits, it would ap
pear that Rothe had to interpoRC his episcopal authority in
deciding some unseemly disputes between the regular and
secular derg^, who were once again at issue about their
respective privileges, and for the linal settlement of which
he was obliged to invoke the aid of Maurice Ultan, provin-
cial of the Franciscans, whose name figures in the authen-
tication prefixed to the autograph copy of the Four Masters.
Ultan, as became him, acquiesced in the bishop's arbitra-
tion, and gave a written promise that there should not be
a repetition of the abuse laid to the charge of some overbold
members of his order, the chief of whom he relegated to
Spain to do penance for his error. It is almost superfluous
to state, that Rothe was present in the synod convened by
Fleming, archbishop of Dublin, atTyrcroghan, in 1635, and
also in the still more important one held in the metropolis
of his own diocese, in 1640. On these momentous occasions
he took a leading part, for he was justly regarded as the
most learned of the Irish prelacy, and foremost among those
who had done greatest services to religion and country.

In the year immediately following, known as that of the
great Irish rebellion, Rothe exerted all his influence to pre-
vent the effusion of blood and aggression on the lives and
properties of protestants, many of whom found refuge from
violence 4n the house of his brother, then one of the weal-
thiest merchants in Kilkenny. When, however, the Irish
prelates and lay lords commenced to organise the Confede-
ration, Rothe made a conspicuous figure in all their earliest
deliberations, which were held under his own roof, where
he entertained the prelates while they were debating the
question of the justness of a sanguinary struggle for religion.

THE SEVENTEENTH CBNTl;BY. 191

life, and loyalty. This question, it would appear, had its
oppoueats as well as advocates among the bishops ; bat
when it was submitted to Rothe for his decision, he at once
declared that a war undertaken for the king^ the abolition
of penal enactments, and restitution of the churches to the
Catholics was according to all recognised laws, not only just
but obligatory in the eyes of God and man. This pro-
nouncement, from one whose age, learning, and wisdom
entitled him to be regarded as an irrefragable authority,
removed all doubt from the minds of the dissentient few,
and caused them to subscribe the opinion of the majority.
The revolution thus suddenly effected raised him to the
rank of spiritual peer, and as such he took his place in the
upi>er house of the confederates after they had established
their parliament in 1642. At that period he had reached
the seventieth year of his age and twenty-fourth of his
episcopacy ; and we may readily imagine with what feel-
ings he must have looked back on the long and dreary
interval through which he had to pass before attaining a
dignity so exalted, and, in all likelihood, never anticipated.
One of the first acts of the confederate government was
to acknowledge Rothe rightful bishop of Ossory. As
sucH he entered into possession of the see and its temporali-
ties, which had been vacated by Williams, the protestant
g relate, who iled on the first outbreak of the insurrection,
traoge, however, as it may seem, he could nqt be induced
to take up his abode in the episcopal palace, and it was
with reluctance he ultimately consented to exchange his
brother's house for that of the Deanery ; where, on the 11th
October, 1642, being St. Ganice*s day, the mayor of the
Irishtown was, according to old usage, duly sworn in his
presence. The Deanery was thenceforth the place of his
constant residence. His next public act was to reconcile
or rehabilitate the cathedral of St. Canice for the Catholic
service, and he accordingly performed this ceremony with
great pomp in presence of many prelates and members of
the supreme council, foremost among whom were his old
friends and protectors, lord Mountgarret and Richard
Butler. Sadly, indeed, had that venerable edifice suffered
during the iutrasion of Bayle, so properly styled by Rothe,
'*Iconoclaste8 ganeo,^' drunken iconoclast, who hewed
down the altars, smashed the sculptured imafi;e8, and made
away with the gold and silver utensils of tne sanctuaxy.

102 THE IRISH mXRARCHY IN

To repair Rtieli wanton outrages on objects venerated by
religion and art, and to replace the sacred furniture sacrile-
giously pnrloincid, was Rothe*s most cherished aim, and as
soon as ne had accomplished it, he caused a fair monument
to be erected in St. Mary's chapel, with an 'inscription,
doubtless composed by himself, to record the period at
which the cathedral was restored to its pristine uses, and to
mark the spot in which he hoped — ^how vainly I ~ that his
bones might one day rest in peace. In connexion with this
subject we may not omit to mention, that he introduced a
novel regulation respectinjg those who were to have pastoral
charge m St. Canice s parish ; for he limited their tenure of
office to three, and in no instance allowed it to exceed six
months, in order that the people micht be properly cared
for, and the pastors themselves should have ample time for
prayerful retirement.

Mainly iotent on his episcopal duties, Rothe seldom took
part in {he political debates of his compeers in the supreme
council, but whenever he did, his words fell with great
force on all parties, for he was universally respected for hia
judgment and moderation. His aflability, varied learning,
and wonderful conversational powers, charmed all who
approached him or partook of nis frugal board; and so
lioeral was he of the revenues of his diocese, that he seldom
or never was master of a hundred pounds, for he expended
all he received in alms to the poor, purchase of altar re-
(j^uirements for his cathedral, and books, of which he waa
singularly fond.

As for the clergy who had the happiness of living under
such » guide and chief, we might easily fancy that their
character was all that could be desired ; but, fortunately,
there is no room for conjecture on this point, since we have
it on the authority of one who was intimately a^uainted
with both, that the priests of Ossory, those (tf Kilkenny
especially, were, at the time of the nunzio's arrival, not
only zealous and laborious, but models to their confreres
throughout Ireland. '* Living in community," says Lynch,
"they cultivated learning, were remarkable for their piety,
and reflected many of the high attributes of their bishop ;
so much so, that, when Einuccini entered Kilkenny, he
found there a cathedral properly served by priests who
might have been equalled but could not have been excelled
by those of his own cily of Fermo."

THS ESYEKTEENTH CENTURY. 193

At that time, however, Rothe, as we have stated, was in
feeble health and afiUcted with all those physical infirmities
that usually accompany the decline of a long life spent in
the performance of laborious duties and unwearied applica-
tion to literary pursuits. Withal, his mental vitahty, far
from being exhausted or impaired, was both vigorous and
elastic, and although the nature of his maladies prevented
him taking part in the debates of the confederate assembly^
his opinions od all controverted issues of policy were in*
variably heard with respectful attention by the members of
both houses, all of whom gave him credit for profound
judgment and matured wisdom. Nevertheless, it must be
admitted, that he vacillated in his views, and endeavoured
to balance himself, as it were, between the two parties into
which the confederates resolved themselves soon after
Rinuccini's arrival in Ireland* In fact, Hothe not only
adopted the policy which that dignitary propounded in the
congregation of the clergy at Waterford, in 1646, but
threat^ed to place Kilkenny and its suburbs under inter-
dict in case the inhabitants should declare themselves
satisfied with the articles which lord Ormond granted to
the Catholics. Two years afterwards, however, Kothe
either changed or modified his views and went over to the

Eirty of his old friends, lord Mountgarret and Bichard
utler. In the meantime his inability to perform episcopal
functions became so apparent that the nunzio wrote to
Rome, stating that '* the aged bishop was so weak as to be
hardly able to leave his chamber,'* and praying that
Bartholomew Archer, a native of Kilkenny, then in France^
and almoner to the duchess of Orleans, might be appointed
coadjutor in the see of Ossory. How this recommendation
was received by the holy see we are not informed ; but the
nunzio wrote again in the course of a few months afterwards
to have it superseded. It was, probably, at this period
that Eothe wrote a small work entited, ^* Samantanua
prcBseribeTU remedia Htbemias^''^ with the view, it may be
conjectured, of reconciling the conflicting parties in the
confederate assembly. This work, however, did not appear
in pnnt, and was destined to share the fate of other and
still more valuable evidences of its author's indefatigable
industry.

At length, notwithstanding his great age and many in-
firmities, Rothe contrived to be present at that final and

194 THK IRISH HIERARCHY IS

fatal debate in which the supreme council of the confede-
rates rejected the uunzio's policy, and declared for the
treaty recently concluded with lord Inchiquin. Exasperated
by this futile attempt to affect a fusion of parties so hetero-
geneous and antagonistic, the nunzio immediately issued
sentence of interdict and excommunication against all
abettors of said compact, and commanded the censures to
be observed in every city and town that presumed to de-
clare for the supreme counciL Rothe, however, questioned
the nunzio's right to pronounce such censures, and sternly
refused to close the doors of his churches in the faces of his
people or refuse them the consolations of religion. On
learning this, Fleming, archbishop of Dublin, wrote to him
that he should cause the censures to be observed, but he
continued inexorable and refused to comply. The arch-
bishop's letter was written early in June, 1648, and in the
course of a few days afterwards, the leading members of
the supreme council submitted to Rothe seven queries,
touching the validity of the excommunication, with a re-
quest t£it he would assemble all the able divines then in
Kilkenny, and have their verdict on said propositioiis or
queries returned with all possible speed. To this Rothe
willingly consented, and, in August, following, he de-
livered nis celebrated answer, in which he proved to the
satisfaction of the supreme council that the nunzio's excom-
munication was nuU and void. This elaborate document,
extending over seven-and-twenty folio pages, shows that its
author was thoroughly master of canon law, intimatdy
acquainted with sacred and secular history, and deeply
versed in the science of statecraft Let us add that it was
the last great effort of his pen, and the consummation of his
literary life. It is almost needless to say, that the nunzio
was deeply offended by Rothe's conduct in this business of
the censures, or that he suggested to the holy see " that the
bishop of Ossory should be suspended, ad libUum porUificis,
from his functions for having refused to observe the inter-
dict, and acted as though he alone were supreme judge in
a matter of such weighty moment. The pope, however,
did not gratify the nunzio's wish, and Rothe retained
possession of his see till one more inexorable than either
pontiff or emperor deprived him of it.

During the entire of 1649 Rothe was confined to his
•hamber a prey to excruciating pain, and unable to take

THE SBVBNTSBNTH CEKTURT. 195

any part in the proceedings of the prelates who had adopted
his views, and placed themselves under his guidance. In
Buch circumstances death, indeed, would have been a wel-
come visitation, for those who came to his bedside had
little else to speak of save massacres perpetrated in
I^ogheda and Wexford, the probability that Cromwell
womd march on Kilkenny, and the certain destruction of
a whole kingdom divided against itself. To add to his
misery, the plague had alreadv appeared in the city, and
on learning this, he arose from his bed, and, his feebleness
notwithstanding, took measures for the spiritual and tem-

' poral consolation of his flock, among whom he declared he
would stay till such time as it might please God to remove
him either by Puritan's bullet or the less merciful agency
of the pestilence which already swept away the greater part
of the garrison and reduced it to four hundred men. Even
so, the brave heart of the venerable bishop never failed him
for a moment at this terrible crisis ; for, instead of escap-
ing from the city as he could have done,' he caused himself
to be carried in a litter from door to door, in order that he
might have the satisfaction of ministering with his own
hands relief to those who were struck down by the plague.
The mysterious shadows of approaching dissolution were
already visible on his pale and wasted features ; and when
the dying beheld him oome along in their midst, or looked
up to him from their straw pallets while he was pronoun-
cmg the last benediction over them, many and many a one
derived consolation from the thought that the pastor would

t not tarry long behind his flock.

It was on tne 22nd March, 1650, that Cromwell appeared
before Kilkenny, and summoned its garrison to surrender.
Sir Walter Butler, however, notwithstandinff the smaUess
of the force at his command, resolved that tne city should
not fall without an effort to maintain it. But despite the
heroic resistance which he and his four hundred men

" offered to the besiegers, he was obliged to capitulate in less
than six days. The terms of surrender were negotiated on
the 26th March, and Edward Rothe, the bishop^s brother,
was nominated by sir Walter Butler one of the four com-
missioners appointed to see the treaty duly carried out ; he
himself, Bouie, remaining a hostage in Oromwell's camp
for its fulfilment. Among other stipulations entered into
on this occasion, there was one which especially regarded

196 THE IRISH HIERARCHY IK

fhe clergy ; for when that subject was mooted to Cromwell,
he sent a written answer to sir Walter Butler, couched in
his usual laconic style, but, withal, satisfactory enough, if
we consider that he might have dealt as he pleased with the
city and its inhabitants **As for your ctergy as you call
than^^* — so ran Cromwell's reply — " in ease you offree to a
surrender they shall march away safely with t?ieir goods ;
hut if they fall otherwise into my hands I believe they know
what to expect from, me.*^ Availing himself of this saving
clause, the bishop left the city on the 28th, with the
remnant of the brave garrison ; but he had not gone more
than half a mile outside the walls when his carriage was
set upon by some stragglers of Cromwell's army, "vmo ar-
rested and robbed him on the spot of one hundred pounds, all
that he possessed. Intelligence of his capture was imme-
diately conveyed to Cromwell, and in justice to the latter
it must be told, that he gave permission to have him brought
back to the city, and handed over to his kinsfolk, who were
then, we may suppose, residing in the family mansion in
Wolfs Arch. There surrounded by his sorrowing friends,
he lingered slowly tUl the 20th of April, when, after re-
oeiving all the comforts of religion, he resigned his soul to
God. Strange as it may seem, when we reflect on what
must have been the state of Kilkenny at that period, it is,
nevertheless, certain that Cromwell allowed the obsequies
of .the deceased bishop to be performed without constraint
or interruption ; for Lynch tells us, that he was waked by
torchlight, and that his remains were deposited in the
family vault in St. Mary's church, after the last offices had
been duly solemnised by his friends. Indeed, the latter
strove to have him interred in St. Canice's, under the
monument which he himself had erected there ; but owing,
propably, to the fact of Axtell's regiment being quartered
m the sacred edifice, they were not able to carry out their
intentions. Certain is, tiiat Axtell's soldiers destroyed the
sumptuous tomb of the Ormond family, and spared that oj
Rottie, which was subsequently treated with less respect by '
Parry, Protestant bishop of Ossory, whose ** ill-judged
zeal" has been justly censured by Harris, in his notice of
that prelate's life.

As for Rothe's unpublished works, ^comprising the
" Hierographia," ** Ecclesiastical history,'- and *' Samari-
tanus prcescribens," etc., they were all either carried

THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 1^

off or destroyed by the Cromwelliana wlio pillaged the
Deanery. Happily, however, owing to the research and
literary zeal of the reverend James Graves, a highly-gifted
cler^man of the established church, a few fragments of the
'* Eiierographia" have been recovered; few, indeed, but more
than enough to make us lament that he has not been able
to find the missing parts. Perhaps, some more fortunate
investigator may, one day, bring those things to light ; and
this wish we would fain accompany with the hope that a
skilful hand will yet do justice to Bothe's bio^phy, and
supplement the shortcomings of the present writer.

CHAPTER VII.

Of all the towns which Kinuccini visited during his stay in
Ireland, ^aterford was the one that impressed him most
favourably, and came nearest to his ideal of a Catholic city,
whose inhabitants were not only remarkable for their de-
votedness to the ancient religion, but also for their commer-
cial intercourse virith France, Spain, Belgium, and other
great emporiums of the time. We may also add that he
wah thoroughly acquainted with the history of the perse-
cution which the Waterfordians had suffered for the
maintenance of their faith at the first attempt to propagate
the reformation there ; and at a period much nearer his
own, when lord Mountjoy disputed with John White and
O'Callaghan, the Dominican, about the exact meaning of
some abstruse passages of St. Augustine's theology^ and
ended the controversy by threatening to cut king John*8
charter with king James's sword, in case the Catholics
should insist on the public exercise of their religion and the
retention of those old churches which their forefathers had
erected to the glory of God and the honour of his saints.
Indeed, to such a man as Binuccini the history of Water-
ford, during an interval little short of a quarter of a century
before his arrival in Ireland, must have presented a series
of incidents that oould not but excite his admiration for
a people who, despite every species of oppression, still
clung unswervingly to the old faith, and scornfully rejected
that most stupid of all modem dogmas, the king's spiritual
headship. Bothe's ** Analecta" and O'Sulli van's ** Catholic
History^' were works with which he must have beei^

198 TETI IRISH HIBRARCHT IN

{uniliar, and from these as well as other sources he, doubt-
less had learned how the mayors and other leading men of
Waterford submitted to fine and imprisonment rather than
swear the supremacy oath ; nay, and for refusing to take
it, had been deprived of their charter, and robbed of all
municipal privileges and immunities for a term of over nine
years. Constancy and fidelity to the Catholic religion in
the midst of unmitigated hardships during the reign of
James I., and that of his ill-starred son, were the grand
characteristics of the citizens of Waterford ; and we may,
therefore, readily imagine with what feelings of respect
and reverence Rinuccini, whose sole and unaisguised aim
was the absolute triumph of catholicity. But along with
these there were other motives which inspired the nunzio
with a warm affection, if we may use such a phrase, for a
city so heartily devoted to the holy see— motives that were
founded on his just appreciation of those eminent eccle-
siastics to whom Waterford had given birth, and whose
celebrity in the domain of literature was then acknow-
lodged by all the great schools of the continent from Rome to
Salamanca. Waterford was the birth-place of Peter
Lombard, archbishop of Armagh, with whom the nunzio
must have been personally acquainted in the days of
Gregory XV., nor can we doubt that he was intimately
famSiar with the " Memoir of Ireland,** which that learned
prelate presented to Clement VIII., in order to secure that
pontiff's sympathy for Hugh O'Neill, then in arms against
queen Elizabeth, and all but king of Ireland from Gweedore
to Kinsale-head. How grateful to the nunzio*s ear must
that euphonious name, Pietro Lombardo, have sounded,
and how often must it have reminded him of another Pietro
— he of the Sentences — whom Thomas of Aquino pointed
out to Dante among the blessed in paradise, crowned and
r^algent, for having, like the poor widow in the gospel,
given his all, the mintage of his great intellect, to the
treasury of the church 1

But there was another of her citizens of whom Waterford
had greater reason to be proud, and that was Luke Wad-
ing, whose mother, Anastasia Lombard was near akin to
the archbishop, and whose renown, as a man of unf»ralled
erudition, not only reflected honour on the place of his nati-
vity, but raised the character of Ireland in the esteem of the
entire oontinentb A singularly-gifted family, indeed, was

THB SSVINTEBNTH OE^TURT. 199

I'. that of the Waddings; for at the period of which we are

' writing, no less than four of them, all bom in Waterford,

' were filiing chairs of divinity and philosophy at Louvain,

Prague, DUIingen, and Coimbra. Luke, however, or, as
he was familiarly called at Rome, ** Padre Luca," inherited
a larger amount of talent than fell to the lot of any
of his kinsmen ; so much so, thaJk, notwithstanding, the
claims whicii each of them has to our respect, they are all
outdazed by the splendour of his fame, and seem like so
many stars set in the aureole with which religion and science
have encircled his head.

Before leaving Rome for the scene of his nunciature, Ri-
nnccini, doubtless, had frequent interviews with father Luke
whose intimate knowledge of the condition and resources of
the confederate Catholics at that period, entitled him to be
regarded as the most reliable authority whom the pope's
minister could consult on subjects of such great importance.
Without, however, pretending to divine all that may have
transpired in the conversations of those two eminent men
as they sat together in St. Isodore's, probably in the little
chamber where hung the earliest portrait of the great Fran*
ciscan, and where he had deposited those priceless relics of
Irish literature c^ved from the universal wreck, we may
safely assert that Wadding advised the nunzio to proceed
straight to Waterf ord, and make his first public appearance
in that city. That Rinuccini intended to do so is quite cer-
tain ; but on his way, as we have stated in a former paper, the
San Pietro frigate, which bore him and his fortunes, was
chased out of her course by an acciursed parliament cruizer,
and had to run before the wind for the Day of Kenmare.
Indeed, there were many reasons which disposed the nun-
zio to prefer Waterford toT the place of his landing, and
among the chiefest of these was the cordial greeting with
which he knew he would be received there, not only by the
great majority of the citizens, but also by the opulent classes,
the Waddings, Wises, and Lombards, whose high social po-
sition, and zeal for the confederate cause were notorious,
not only in Ireland, but at Rome. Then, again, the har-
bour of Waterford was a very desirable place for taking,
ashore the specie and arms which he had brought with hita
to pay and equip the confederate levies ; and aoove all^ the
strong fort of Duncannon, with its commanding batteries
and catholic artUlerista, would not only thunder out its aa-

200 THB IRISH HIBRARCHT IN

lutes on his arrival, but would afford him what he did not
prize less, safe anchorage for his ship, and an open seaboard
to maintain correspondence with the continent. But the

Parliament commodore thwarted his projects, and re-
nced him to the alternative of making for the Keny coast.
As soon, however, as all peril of being iutercdpted had
passed, the San Pietro made sail for the haven of Water-
ford, and there dropped anchor right under the guns of
Buncannon, which Rinuccini himself tells us was, during
his nimciature, of all places in Ireland, the most devoted
and loyal to religion and the holy see.

Anxious, however, as the nunzio must kave been to
present himself to the people of Waterford, he was not able
to make his appearance there till February, 1640, that is
to say, four months after his arrival in Ireland On
approaching the city, accompanied by father Scarampi and
others of his retinue, he was met by many of the principal
citizens, who presented him with a congratulatory address,
and made him an offer of their hospitality. Foremost
among the burgesses, who were most courteous to him on
this occasion, was Thomas Wadding, father Luke's cousin,
a very opulent man, who placed his town resi4<nce and
suburban villa at his disposal, and entertained him with a
series of costly banquets to which all the most distinguished
citizens were invited to heighten the eclat of the occasion.
Thenceforth, whenever Kinuccini visited Waterford, he
invariably fixed his residence in Wadding's mansion, and it
is unnecessary to say, that while staying there, he never
lacked any of those obsequious attentions to which his high
and influential position entitled him. Horses and equi-
pages were at his command, and father Luke*s kinsman
thought he could never do enough to manifest his respect
for the pope's minister.

But the grandest f 6te of all was the reception given him
in the ancient cathedral of the holy Trinity, at whose
threshold he was met by Patrick Comerford, bishop of
Waterford and Lismore, a venerable and learned prelate,
whom Rinuccini, in all probability, had met at Rome, but
with whose zealous and patriotic character there can be no
doubt, he was long and thoroughly acquainted. The func-
tion performed on the occasion to which we allude was
truly grand, strictly in accordance with what the rubric
prescribes for such occasion, and satisfactory to the criticid

THE SEVENTEENTH CENTUBY. 201

eye of the nunzio, who, although extremely fastidious
about the minutest details of ceremonial, professed himself
surprised and edified by tite accurate and graceful deport-
ment of the bishop and his subordinates. In fact, Comer-
ford was a prelate modelled according to Rinuccini's
ideal— one who was intent on restoring not only the open
and untranmielled exercise of religion, but the revival of
all its gorgeous accessories — one, in fact, who, had he the
power to do so, would have surrounded the altar of his
cathedral with a splendour which might have vied with,
that of St. Peter's, at Rome. In the person of this bishop
the nunzio discovered a man who, like himself, was truly
in earnest for the absolute triumph of Catholicity, the
restoration of the churches to their rightful claimants, and
the due observance of the ancient ritual without compromise
or curtailment.

Patrick Comerford, or " Queinerford," according to the
orthography of the fifteenth century, son of Robert Comer-
ford and Anagtasia White, was bom in Waterford, about
the year 1586, just two years before his eminent friend and
fellow-citizen, Luke Wadding, came into the world.
Robert, father of the future bishop, was an opulent mer-
chant, and brother to Nicholas Comerford, a distinguished
scholar, who, after taking his degree in Oxford, in 1562,
returned to his native city, and was there ordained priest.
Refusing to conform to the new religion, he was obliged to
betake himself to Louvain, where he was honoured with
the degree of doctor of divinity in 1575 ; and leaving the
latter city, he proceeded to Madrid, where he joined the
Jesuits, and died after having composed various works,
which exhibit indubitable marks of a highly cultivated
intellect. This simple fact is of itself sufficient evidence of
the devotedness of tne Comerfords to the ancient faith, but
the fragmentary history of the family proves that Anastasia,
mother of Patrick, was a constant and faithful friend to the
persecuted priests in those days of calamity, when that
arch-hypocnte, Miler Magrath, held, along with his
numerous pluralities, the see of Waterford and Lismore in
commendam. Among the priests who partook of Anas-*
tasiVs shelter and nospitality, there was one Bermot
O'Callaghan, whom she selected as tutor for her child, and
at this good man's knee young Patrick was initiated in the
first rudiments, and prepared for entrance into the cele-

^ I

202 THE IRISH HIERARCHY III'

braf ed school of Kilkenny, of wMcli Peter White was then
president. There it was the boy's good fortane to have for
nis fellow-pupils Peter Lombard, Richard Stanihurst, Luke
Wadding, and other celebrities, whose after career was
destined to reflect such credit on the "lucky schoolmaster,"
as Peter White was called. At length, having completed
t'le course of belles-lettres, and made up his mind to adopt
ecclesiastical life, Anastasia Gomerford, then a widow,
resolved to send her boy, in charge of father Dermot
O'Cailaghan, his first perceptor, to the Irish secular coUese
of LisTOU. Havins tarried some time in that establish-
ment, he proceedt^ to the seminary which de Sourdis,
cardinal-archbishop of fiourdeaux, had founded in that
city for the education of Irish priests, and there the young
lad distinguished himself, not only as a clever humaniait^
but as an able composer of Latin verses. Owing to wei^
health, however, he was obliged to quite the vine-clad
banks of the Garonne for those of the Suir and Blackwater;
but as soon as he found himself reinvigorated, he set out
again for Lisbon, and applied himself to the study of
philosophy. His success in this department was highly
creditaole, for he disputed a public thesis, and won the
applause of all who witnessed this intellectual toumay.
Having completed his philosophical studies, Gomerford
entered the novitiate of the Austin Hermits in Lisbon, and
at the close of the probationary term, his superiors sent
him to their convent at Angra, capital of Terceiro, in the
Azores, where he professed rhetoric for four years. At the
close of that period, he was recalled to Lisbon, where he
prosecuted his theological course, and defended a thesis
comprising the entire cycle of divinity. His talents were
now universally pronounced to be of a high order, and the
Austin Hermits of Lisbon had good reason to congratulate
themselves on having among them one who, although still
very young, was, nevertheless, deemed amply <|ualmed to
quit the form of the pupil for the professor's cnair in any of
the various departments of science which were cultivated at
the time.

Having attained his twenty-fourth year in 1610, Gomer
ford was ordained priest, and as his services were required
at Brussels, he immediately set out for that eity, where^
on his arrival, he was advanced to the chair of theology in
the school attached to the convent of his order. There can

THE SEVEITTBSNTH CEKTRUT. 203

be no donbt that he spent many years thus employed in
the Belgian capital, irom which, however, he was sum-
moned towards the close of the pontificate of Paul Y., to
assist at a general chapter of his order which was held at
Kome. Comerford's mme had preceded him, and the pope
recognising his merits, resolved that he should not leave
the eternal city without receiving substantial evidence of
the esteem in which he was held. Little, indeed, could a
pontiff do at that peiiod for the material advancement of
any member of the religious orders in Ireland, where the
conventual domains had heen so ruthlessly alienated to lay
proprietors ; but as the latter did not care to invest them-
selves with the designation of prior or guardian, such
titles, albeit honorary, were still in the gift of the supreme
bead of the Chtux^h, who bestowed them as he willed, with
the twofold object of protesting against spoliation, and re-
warding eminent merit. At the period of which we are
writing, the ancient monastery of the Austin Hermits of
Callan, founded by James Butler in the fifteenth century,
had no prior, and as Paul V. was importuned to collate to
the vacancy, he gladly availed Mmself of the opportunity
to testify his appreciation of Father Comerford's worth, by
advancing him to a place which although stripped of its
temporalities, was still one of great respectability.

Thus honoured, Comerford set out for Ireland ; and on
passing through Florence, the far-famed Academy della
GruBca, enrolled him among its members, and conferred on
him the degree of doctor of philology. On reaching his
native land he immediately present^ himself to Bothe,
bishop of Ossory, and that learned prelate welcomed and
congratulated him on his appointment to the priory of
Callan. The once stately monastery, with its splendid
church, was then little lietter than a mere ruin ; but the
Austin brotherhood still continued to live in the vicinity,
where they toiled energetically for tiie preservation of the
old faith. Luids and revenues they had none, but despite
proscription and oppression, the generosity of the perse-
cuted Catholics sustained them, and on many occasions
saved them from imprisonment and death. Father Com-
erford discharged the duties of his office with great zeal
during the ten years he held the priory, residing almost
constantly with his poor community, and occasionally
going to Waterf ord to console and encourage the faithf lu

204 THl ntlSH mXRABCHT IN

citiienf who were Biill groaning under the vexations ty-
ranny of penal enactments.

It wat during one of thoae periodical Tisita that some
^ne told him that a brother of his had been captured by an
^Igerine cruiser, who carried off his prize to Mogador,
where the prisoners were to be sold in the slave market.
On hearing this, Father Oomerford lost no time in ascer-
taining all the particulars of the disaster ; and having sat-
iBfied himself of its truth, he resolved to go to Spam, in
order to enlist the aid of the Trinitarian monks, whose
grand mission was the redemption of captives out of the
hands of those fanatic barbarians, from whose bloody raids
no European seaboard was then secure. Being supplied by
his kinsmen and friends with a considerable sum of money,
he set out for Gibraltar, and a few months after his arrived
there had the happiness of embracing his brother, for
whose liberation a large ransom had be^ paid. Unfortu^
nately, however, the latter died soon afterwards, and Oom-
erford had the melancholy satisfaction of seeing him laid
in a foreign grave !

After passing some time in Spain, Oomerford proceeded
to Home, whiter he was called for the arrangement of
certain matters relating to the Irish Augustinians ; but he
had not been long in the eternal city, when he learnt that
Urban VIII. meant to promote him to the see of Water-
ford and Lismore. The late bishop of that diocese had
been some time dead, and bulls were expedited for the ad-
vancement of the Oistertian abbot of Inislaunacht, com-
moDlv called '* de Suir," to the vacancy ; but he, too, had
died before the arrival of the papal diploma. Such being
the case, the clergy of Waterfora memorialized the holy
see to bestow the bishopric on Oomerford, and Urban
VIIL, after due deliberation, resolved to grant their
prayer.

Indeed, Urban was well assured that Oomerford possess-
ed all the qualifications which are essential to the episcopal
character, and that he was not only a man of irreprehensi-
ble life, but truly zealous, and largely endowed with know-
ledge, both as a legist and theologian. The see to which
he was about to be raised was poor and persecuted, and
desirable as it might have been in other times, the dignity
of chief pastor of Waterford and Lismore, at the period of
his elevation, was one which exposed him to innumerable

THE SBVXNTXUrrH CENTtTBY. 205^

hardships and imminent lisk of liberty and life. No
need had he to edio the prayer of Paulinus, bishop of
Nola^** Grant, Lord, that I may not be plagued with
handling gold and silver'* — for the latter had been seized
by the Keformers, but there still remained what was, in
his eyes, far more appreciable— a flock whose fidelity had
been tested in many terrible ordeals, and a clergy renown-
ed for zeal and high attainments, who though they were
not driven to the alternative of consecrating in wooden
chalices, were, nevertheless, golden priests — men, in a
word, who realized St. Boniface's ideal of sacerdotal per-
fection. As for Oomerford, or as we may now style him,
the bishop-elect of Waterford and Lismore, he belonged to
an institute which made solemn profession of poverty, and
we may add, that if the revenues of the diocese to which he
was about to be promoted, had been at his command, he
would have used them in the same manner as Cardinal
Frederick Borromeo, his contemporary, used those of the
rich see of Milan. Poverty and persecution in their most
revolting phases had no terrors for a man so minded,
and he accordingly accepted at the hands of Urban YIIL,
his nomination to the episcopacy, with all the consequences
which it might involve.

Towards the close of March, 1629, a large assemblage
had met in the beautiful church of St. Sylvester, on the
Quirinal, to witness the consecration of Patrick Oomerford.
Many of his countrymen were present on the occasion ;
some mere striplings who were pursuing their studies in the
eternal' city, and some grey-haired retainers of O'Neill and
O'Donnell, who were either proscribed in their native land,
or preferred passing the residue of their years near the
tomb of their great chieftains on the Janiculum. But of
all those who came to witness the ceremony, the most dis-
tinguished was Father Luke Wadding, who laid aside hi»
bo^s for awhile, and walked down from St. Isidore's to
congratulate his fellow-citizen, early playmate, and school
companion on lus well-deserved promotion. Oomerford
was then in his forty-third year, and Wadding was two
years his junior ; the one had attained the highest honour
the pope could bestow, but the other, had even then won
for himself, in the world of letters, a celebrity which was
destined to be perpetuaL What imagination could realize
tiie emotions that must have quicken^ the hearts of those

206 THE IRISH HIEBARCHY IV

two men at that moment when Wadding knelt for the
bishoi)*8 blessing ! May we not fancy that visions of home
rose before their memories, and that they thought of the
olden time when they conned their lessons in Peter White's
school on the banks of the Nore ?

Comerford set ont for Ireland soon after his consecration;
bnt before leaving Rome he had an audience of pope Urban,
who charged him to do his utmost for the revival of the
Irish houses of the Austin friars, and appointed him apos*
tolic-vicar-general of the regular canons of St. Austin,
whose establishments were very numerous throughout the
island in those times when the monasteries flourished. He
was, indeed, sratef ul for this last proof of the pontiff's
esteem, but he nardly required any exhortation to stimu-
late him in behalf his own order, for whose restoration he
had already laboured successfully.

On arriving in his native land he fixed his residence in
Waterford, and applied himself to the discharge of his epis-
copal duties, cautiously avoiding all demonstrations that
could provoke the bigotry and intolerance of the lords jus-
tices, sir Adam Loftus, and Boyle, earl of Cork, who tiien
held the reins of government in the absence of lord Falk-
land. To such men as these the life and liberty of a catho-
lic bishop was a matter of utter insignificance ; for they affec-
ted to regard all such dignitaries as political agents, em-
ployed by Rome and Spain, to effect a counter-revolution
m Ireland, which, if successful, would strip them of their
unjustly acquired estates, and restore the church property
to the *' papists." To persecute, and, if possible, to extir-
pate the '* Romish prelates,** was therefore sound policy,
not only consonant to the spirit of the lay supremacy, but
dictated by the suggestions of self-interest. It is needless
to say that long experience and close observation had made
Comerford acquainted with the bigotry of men of this
stamp, and that he did not neglect to fence himself about
with such prudential caution as might keep him from falling
into their hands.

But besides those who were then governing Ireland from
Dublin castle, there were others again«t whose malignity
and intolerance he had to be, if possible, still more oca-
stantly on his guard, and those were the Protestant bishops
of Waterford, Boyle and Atherton, who, during their usur-
pation of that see^ harassed the unfortunate CaihoUoa in

THE SBVBNTEBNTH CENTURY. ' 207

the most cmel manner by levying fines for ** recusancy/*
and obstructing the priests in the discharge of their duties.
Indeed, it was no easy matter for one in Comerford^s position
to escape the toils which were often spread for him by those
two fanatics, whose schemes for persecuting the less en-
lightened members of his flock, by the agency of schools
and bribes, he invariably and successfully thwarted. To
such men, indeed, any catholic bishop would have been a
'* scandal and a stumbling-block, which they would
gladly have swept from their path ; but one with his energy
and unquestionable hold on the hearts of the Catholics of
Waterford, was something worse— a great difficulty to the
proffress of the reformed doctrines, and a '^hinderer of
truth,'* whom they could not regard but with feelinss of
personal hatred. Nevertheless, despite their unwearied vi-
cilance, he contrived to keep the faith alight in the souls of
his people ; and notwithstanding all their precautions, he
held synods of his clergy, ordained clerics, and confirmed
multitudes of the young by day and by night, either
in private houses or in the woods, whither he was often
obliged to betake him in order to perform such functions
without interruption.

At length, wnen the Catholics of Waterford joined the
movement of 1641, and Atherton, their bitter enemy, had
closed his career by a disgraceful death on the scaffold,
Comerford employed his influence in repressing the violence
of those who were but too well disposed to inflict summary
vengeance on the Protestants, at whose hands they had re-
ceived little else than cruelty and vexatious oppression, not
indeed for disloyalty to the state, but for fidelity to the
church of their fathers. Indeed, his charity and merciful
interposition at that crisis, saved many from the wild pas-
sions of the populace ; and some of those who, before then,
regarded him as an implacable enemy, had good reason to
thank God for having sent them such a friend and de-
liverer, as he proved himself on the occasion.

Being smnmoned to assist in framing the Oath of Asso-
oiation, and estabUshing the Confederacy in Kilkenny, he
took an active part in all those preliminaries, and was one
of the first of the Irish prelates to declare, that the war
which the Catholics were about to wage, was not only just
in the sight of heaven, but actually necessary for the wel-
fare of the Irish Catholics. In 1642, the supreme counci]^

208 THE IKISH BIERABCHT IN

of which he was a member, sacceeded in reducing Dun-
cannon fort, and in the same year, he had restored to him
' all the temporalities of his see, which had been so long in.
the possession of Anglican intruders. He then lost no time
in reconciling his cathedal church of the Holy Trinity, and
replacing the sacred furniture of which it had been stripped
by the Keformers, and bo great was his zeal for the honour
and splendour of religion, that the faithful of Waterford
Bupphed him with abundant means to rebuild the altars, and
furnish the holy places, the cathedral especially, with all
necessary requirements. As a master of course, he was
frequently present at the deliberations of his compeers in
the Confederate Assembly ; but his chief care was bestowed
on his flock, among whom he resided almost constantly, in
order that he might repair the many injuries which religion
had sustained during the intrusion of the protestant bishops,
and confirm the faithful in their devotedness to that creed,
for which their fathers had endured such cruel persecution.
None, indeed, could have loved the splendour of religion
more than he did, and none could have laboured more
indefatigably for the revival of the Ritual in all its minutest
details. Indeed, in the interval between the formation of
the Confederacy and the nunzio's arrival in Ireland, he
succeeded in making his churches resemble those of Rome,
as far as ceremonies were concerned, so much so, that
Binuccini declared that he had nowhere seen sights more
edifying or pompous than those which he witnessed in
Waterford. As for the Augustinians, he took special pains
to benefit them when the means for doing so had come into
his hands ;, and in order that he might oe surrounded by
members of the community he loved so well, he bestowed
on them the church of St. Catherine and the oratory of the
Blessed Virgin, which, in the olden times was a dependency
to the cathedral. In the midst of all these solicitudes he
was not unmindful of sacred literature, for in his leisure
moments he composed a work on polemical theology, and
made an accurate transcript of the list of the Deans of
Waterford from the earliest period. Loved and venerated
by his flock and clergy, he was justly styled the most
popular bishop then in Ireland, and, to confirm his claims
to universal respect, the nunzio wrote to Bome that Com-
erf ord was a model whom all his colleagues might copy to
advantage^

THB SXVXNTSSNTH 0BNTITR7. 209

This, in4eed, is bat a feeble sketch of the bishop who
impressed Rinuccini so favourably, and who had excited
the enthusiasm of his people in favour of that personage
long before he set foot in Waterford. Let us now see what
use the nunzio made of the influence he had attained in
that city, and for which he was mainly indebted to the
encomiums and honest prepossessions of its spiritual chief.

It must be premised, however, that, long before Kin-
nccini's first appearance in Waterford, a strong faction in
the confederate council, who were styled the moderate
party, resolved to accept a treaty of peace, which lord
Ormond had been negotiating, but which the nunzio and
hia party determined to reject, because it did not give
ample security for the free and open exercise of the catholic
religion. The moderates, or Ormondists, were fully satisfied
with the viceroy's overtures, but the entire body of the
clergy, the Jesuits excepted, and most of the bishops
maintained that they would be unfaithful to the oath of
association, if they subscribed any treaty or cessation of
hostilities that did not restore them the churches, with
l^eir revenues, and abolish all penal statutes that had been
enacted since the apostasy of Henry VIII. Rinuccini was
also disposed to insist that the goverment of Ireland should
be committed to a catholic viceroy — a very reasonable
stipulation, indeed, as the Catholics then, as well as now,
formed the majority of the population ; but all these
propositions were looked upon by lord Ormond's creatures,
who were a strong element in the supreme council, as
impracticable and exorbitant. Rinuccmi, therefore, re-
solved to crush the latter faction if he could, and, after
conaiderinjp; where might with greatest safety assemble a
meeting of the clergy, in order to carry out his intentions,
he pitched on Waterford as the place best suited to his
purpose. Indeed,' the selection of that city proved that he
was a man who did not act precipitately or indthout making
ample provisions for his personal safety, in case the latter
might be endangered by the bold and defiant attitude he
was about to assume ; and surely, there was no spot in the
whole island which could offer him greater security than
tiiat which Waterford was prepared to afford him. His
popularity there had already driven away the herald
who came to proclaim lord Ormondes peace ; Gomerford
was his most enthusiastic admirer, and most ardently

p

1010 XEISH HIJBEABCHT IS

devoted to his policy ; the strong fort of Dnncaxmon, witH
its catholic garrison, would shelter him if he needed its
inrotection; and, finally, his frigate — the San Pietro^-
rode at anchor in the harbonr, and was ready, at a
moment's warning, to carry him off, should any nnforeseen
accident drive him to that last and most humiliating
alternative. Far, however, from apprehending any d!
those eventualities, the nnnzio calculated on triumph, tor
at that moment he was flushed by intelligence of O^Neill's
victory at Benburb, the capture of Bunratty in the south,
where he himself took part in the siege operations, and
finally, by the success which General Preston had acMeved
at the head of ^e Leinster Confederate forces in the
west.

Leaving Ealkenny and his enemies behind him, Binnccini
therefore proceeded to Waterford, and at a synod which ho
summoned there, the bishops, and clergy, with the excep*
tion of the religious order already named, declared that
the peace to which the Ormondists had consented was
null, and that all those who had worked to bring it
about, or should subsequently countenance or adhere to it^
were ipMfactOj perjurers and exconmiunicate. From that
moment the bishops, with the nunzio at their head, took
on them the government of the country, after having by an
extra-legal proceeding, arrested and committed the abettots
of lord Ormond's peace to tiie prison of Kilkenny castie,
whero, as the nunzio tells us, they consoled themselves
**by toasting the ruin of religion, in flowing bumpers
of beer." Drink, however, as they might, £inuccini*8
power, whether for good or for evil, had wen attaint its
culmination, and foremost among the twelve archbishops
and bishops, who took a leading part in raising him to sudi
a height and approving his future policy was Patrick
Comeriord, of Waterfora and lismore. It is almost un«
necessary to remark, that notwithstanding this temporary
triumph, the nunzio's power gradually, declined, and that
despite the simulated union between the two generah^
O'Neill and Preston, a long series of reverses, the natural
consequence of mutual distrust and personal rivalries^
attended the government assumed by the congregation of
the clergy. Withal, Comerford's allegiance to Rinucdni
remained unaltered, and notwithstonding the many
attempts to alienate him from the latter, lie caatinoed

THE SBYENTSBNTH CBNTURT. 211

\

faitbfol to him through every phase of his ill-starred
mission.

Such were the intimate relations that existed between
those two personages, and such the esteem they cherished
for each other, that Rinnccini passed many months of the
year 1647 under Comerford's roof, where he was entertained
with splendid hospitality, and where, we may reasonably
suppose, there was no lack of sycophants — for how could
such a personage as a nunzio be without them ? — to intoxi-
cate him with the poisoned perfume of their flattery, and
applaud that uncompromising policy in which he persevered
to the last. To him, indeed, Waterford, with its religions
I)omp8, devoted bishop, and admiring inhabitants, was a
city of ** perfect delight;'* and next to it, in his estima-
tion, was that frowning citadel of Duncannon, for which
he expended such large sums on the purchase of arms and
minpowder, in the full assurance that religion could never
be wholly destroyed in Ireland as long as that place was
held by an orthodox garrison. Accompanied by Comer-
ford, he was in the habit of paying long and frequent
visits, for relaxation as well as business, to this his
favourite fortress ; and, indeed, it would appear that some
of the most anxious moments of his life were passed there
in 1648, when, as we learn from his own narrative, he spent
whole hours sweeping the horizon with a perspective glass
fixed in one of the embrasures to catch a glimpse of the
ship in which the dean of Fermo was coming to his aid,
with specie, ammunition, and fresh instructions from
Rome. Having dwelt at such length on what may be
called Oomerford's private life, let us now see how he acted
as a public man towards the close of the nunzio*s connec-
tion with Ireland.

Without recapitulating the history of the latter person-
age^s proceedings it may suffice to mention here, that early
in 1648, lord Inchiquin, actuated by resentment to Lisle,
the parliamentary lord-lieutenant, who had been sent to
oust him from his conunand, changed sides once more,
declared for the royal cause, and protested against the
further exercise of the nunzio's power. The supreme
council then made a truce with Inchiquin, but as it did
not give ample sureties for the freedom of reli^on,
Binuccini, and a large party of the bishops, compnsing
those whose appointment was made at his recommendation^

812 THS nOBH HIXSARCHT IK

set their faces against it. His next step Tras to sammon a
synod, as he had already done in 1646, and there, with the
ooncurrence of the majority of the bishops, he pronounced
sentence of excommunication against the fnuners and
abettors of the aforesaid truce, and laid under interdict all
parts of the kingdom where priests or people would be
found to accept it. We have elsewhere told how Preston's
soldiers, who were not excormnunicobtion'proof, went over
to O'Neills standard, and how several cities and many lead-
ing personages besought the nunzio and those bishops, who
were delegated by him to release them from the censures,
and how finally the great majority of the people still
adhered to his policy. Nevertheless, the minority proved
to be the stronger party, and the division among the
bishops paralys^, if it did not altogether destroy,
Kinuccini's power. The revolted supreme council forbade
the people to obey the sentence of excommunication and
interdict, and the lay atUhorities borrowed additional
strength from the adhesion of eight bishops, a few of tiie
regular orders, some deeply read canonists and the Jesuits,
all of whom asserted that the censures were null, as rest-
ing on civil matters, and having been published without
tiie sanction of the entire body of the Irish prelates. In the
midst of this conflict of opinions Ilinuccini established
himself in Galway, to watch the result of his extreme
measures.

Comerford, we need, hardly say, adopted his views, and
enforced, the sentence in Waterford, where he closed the
churches, forbade the celebration of Mass, and all other
ministrations, according to the strict letter of the interdict
The supreme coimcil, on learning this, summoned him to
their presence ; but on his refusal to comply with their
mandate, they wrote again, deprecating his conduct in de-
nying the people access to the churches and the consolations
of reUsion, which they had purchased, with the efPusion of
their blood, during a war that had extended over sev^i
years. ''Your lordship should remember," wrote they,
*'how the people stood by you in the time of persecution,
and how the venerable bishop of Ossory was not so uncha-
ritable as to deprive his people of the use of his churches^
You should also bear in mind that, along with the ardli-
bishop of Gashel, you professed yourself satisfied with the
appeal whioh we have f orwuxied to Rome, an appeal by

I

THE SEVBNTEENTH <JENTURY. 213

which the sentence has been suspended ; nor can we accbnnt
for your conduct, otherwise than by ascribing it to your
desire of gratifying the ambition of Owen O'Neill, whom
the nunzio patronizes at the instance of the bishop of
Clogher. We, therefore, implore you to desist from this
Tiolent proceeding, and ffive your people free access to the
churches, which were polluted till they had purified them
•with their blood. Should you, however, persist in your
present course, we have no alternative but to deprive you
of your temporalities, according to the obligation of your
oath, and the laws which were observed here in the most
Catholic times." This letter was subscribed by Lucas
Dillon, Robert Lynch, Richard Belling, Gerald Fennel],
John Walsh, and Patrick Brien, all of whom were sworn
enemies to Binuccini, partisans of lord Ormond, and active
agents in compassing tne ruin of Ireland on the arrival of
Cromwell. Two days, however, after its delivery. Comer-
ford returned an answer, which must have stung these
traitors to the quick ;, for it not only justified his own
actioD, but proved that he was not to be frightened by their
threats : — " I have received yours of the 12th instant, sig-
nifyiog that you will revoke my temporalities if I insist on
enforcing the sentence of interdict in Waterford. I there-
fore inform you that, on receipt of the nunzio's command,
1 assembled the most learned of the clergy, secular and
regular, and, after mature deliberation, without a single
dissentient, we concluded that we were bound, under most
srievous penalties, to observe the interdict, not, indeed,
from a desire to favour anv party or individual, but rather
to satisfy our obligation of obedience. As to your insinua-
tion touching what I said about the suspension of the cen-
sures by an appeal to Rome, all I can remember is, that
I expressed myself then merely in a discursive manner ; and
as to the model you proTK>se to me in the conduct of the
bishop of Ossory, witn all deference to that prelate's deserts,
I may observe that I have before me the example of other
bishops as learned and charitable as he. Great, indeed, as
are my obligations to this city, both as its pastor and native,
you must bear in mind that there are others equally binding
and stringent. As to my temporalities, which you threaten
to alienate, all I need say is, that the enemy has antici-
pated you, for he is already seized of a goodly portion of
•ame ; and as for the remainder, it is in the hands of certain

214 THE IBISEI HIISRARCHY IV

noblemen of the confederate council, as I have already no-
tified to you in the return I have forwarded of the revenue
of my diocese. But although I were to be stripped, justly
or unjustly, of all the world could f^ye, for my submission
to the decrees of holy Church, I will, nevertheless, perse-
vere in obedience, nor will I cease to pray God that you
may well and faithfully guide the councils of the confede-
rates of this kingdom."

This rebuke closed Comerford's correspondence with the
supreme council, nor does it appear that he took an^ part,
by proctor or otherwise, in the proceedings of those bishops,
who, steadfast in their adhesion to the nunzio*s policy,
strove, at Galway and elsewhere, to maintain the cause of
religion and country against Cromwell's precursors. That
he was sorely harassed by luchiquin, who, with the sanction
of his new allies, after reinstating the Puritan ministers in
Cloyne and Ross, swept the county of Waterford with fire
and sword, because its bishop observed the censures, is quite
certain ; but, happily for him, the fort of Duncannon shel-
tered him within its walls, and enabled him to set at de-
fiance all the machinations of his enemies. There, indeed,
he was secure from Inchiquin's violence ; for, notwithstand-
ing all the efforts which were made by Belling and his col-
leagues to get possession of the place and tibe bishop's
person, the garrison could not be bribed or forced to sur-
render to them.

Meanwhile, Cromwell appeared before Waterford, in
November, 1649, and although the city was but feebly gar-
risoned by some detachments of Ulster troops, commanded
by O'Farrell, the inhabitants refused admission to a strong
force sent to their aid by lord Ormond, simply because that
nobleman had declared against the nunzio and his censures.
Nevertheless, the resolution of the citizens was such, that
Cromwell, not wishing to lose time, struck his tents, and
proceeded to invest Dungarvan, while Ireton had to retire
from before Duncannon, which was then cx>mmanded by
Wogan, a brave officer, entirely devoted to the old confed-
eracy. As for Comeiford, his conduct at this crisis was
in every respect consistent; for, while attending sedu-
lously to the spiritual interests of his people, he did not fail
to exhort them to hold out to the last against the parlia-
mentarians, whom he justly characterised as eneknies to
God and man. As it is not our province to go into a detail

j THE SKVaNTEKNTH CENTURY. 215

I

of the incidents connected with the siege of Waterford, or
the stout resistance which its inhabitants offered to the
Cromwellians, we must content ourselves with stating that
Comeitbrd's care of the people during the ravages of the
pla^e was, in every sense, worthy of his zeal and pastoral .
devotedness. Though feeble and worn out by anxiety, he
was ever ready to minister consolation to the dying ; and
his ii^eans, which, indeed, were then very slender, were
alwa;ip at the service of the poor and sick. At length, when
the city had to yield to Ireton, whose unmerciful character
was even then proverbial, Comerford, knowing what fate
awaited him if he remained in Ireland, embarked for St
Male, where he arrived towards the close of August, 1656
After residing two years in that seaport, he ultunately re-
moved to Nantes, where he closed his mortal career on the
10th of March, 1652, at the ripe age of sixty-six. His re-
mains were interred, with great pomp, in the grand cathe-
dral of that city, and, seven years afterwards, his friend
aud colleagae, Robert Barry, bishop of Cork, was laid in
the same sepulchre.

CHAPTER VIIL

When Rinncolni arrived in Ireland he found several sees
vacant, and his first and chiefest care was to have them
filled. The candidates were proposed to him by the
supreme council of the Confederates, and he recommended
them for appointment by Innocent X. , selecting those who
were remarkable for their attachment to his own policy,
and their devotion to the apostolic see. Towards the close
of 1647, the bulls nominating the new prelates arrived from
Rome, for the most part in accordance with his recommen-
dation, although the archbishopric of Tuam, as we have
seen, was spYen to de Burgh, whose political views were
of the moderate order, and shaped by those of lord Clan-
ricarde, his kinsman and the chief of his name. The
bishops^ as a matter of course, took their places in the
legislative assembly, and were admitted to vote in right of
their sees, and, indeed, there were only three excepted
from this es&blished usage — the most remarkable of whom
was Boetius E^an, bishop of Ross, whose rieht to sit in the
■upreme council was questioned, as he had been appointed

216 THK IRISH HIERARCHY m

withoat the consent of the lay-lords; some of whom refused to
advance to their teini>orahtie8 the prelates of the uun-
zio's nomination; but as the other bishops already
in possession protested against snch interference, tl^
objection was overruled, not, however, without a
rtoimy debtate among the canon lawyers, who were
always armed with countless precedents of rights and
privileges vested in the English crown, centuries TOfore the
Keform^tion. Rinuccini, set little value on such special
pleading ; and far from admitting that either the kmg or
his representatives in the supreme council had any inherent
right to nominate to bishoprics or benefices, he scovted all
their pretensions, alleging that such ri^ht, although recog-
nised in catholic times, had been forfeited by heiesy, and
reverted to the apostolic see ; and that he, in his office of
nunzio and representative of the sovereign pontiff was em-
powered to pronounce on the fitness of toe candidates inde-
Eendently of the primate and the whole body of the Irish
ierarchy. In oi^er, however, to reconcile tiie ultra loyal
members of the supreme council to his views, hd told them
that in case king Charles became a Catholic, the holy see
would recognise his just claims, and adopt a course of
action that would meet all their wishes. Till then, how-
ever, he would not abate a title of what he considered to
be the exclusive right of Rome, or enter into any compro-
mise with those who were meddling in matters which were
not of their competence. It is needless to observe, that no
member of the supreme council entertained the hvpothesis
of the king's conversion, and they therefore abandoned the
controversy about the royal veto.

Towards the close of 1645, Rinuccini was informed that
James O'Hurly, bishop of Emly, had fallen into bad health ;
BO much so, that it was absolutely necessary to provide him
with a coadjutor. This infirm and aged prelate, a member
of the order of St. Dominic, had made nis religious pro-
fession under the shahow of the ancient and once splendid
monastery of Kilmallock, and aftrsr completing his studies
in Spain, was raised to the see of Emly in 1641. His
tenure of the episcopate was comparatively brief ; and all
that we have been able to learn concerning his character is,
that^ like the generality of his order, he was distinguished
for learning and zeal. His illness, it would appear, was
protracted ; for it is quite certain that he did not die till
some time in August, 1646, that is to say tw^ve months

THE SKYBNTKENTH CENTURY. 217

after the nunzio's arrival in Ireland. The wish of the
dying prelate was, that his place might be filled by another
Dominican ; and the nunzio being of the same mind, wrote
to Rome, recommending Terence Albert O'Brien, provincial
of the order in Ireland, as a person eminently qualified for
the coadjutorship, and to succeed O'Hurly whenever the
death of the latter might occur. Three months, however,
after he had despatched that recommendation, he wrote
again to Kome in favour of William Burgat, vicar-general
of Emly, for whose appointment to the coadjutoruiip, it
seems, many of the bishops were then extremely desirous ;
but their memorial, though endorsed by the nunzio, was
not entertained. Burgat, however, had the satisfaction of
being allowed to retain the vicar-generalship ; and of being
advanced, when O'Hurly died, to the more responsible
dignity of vicar-apostolic, pending the vacancy of the see.
It seems strange, mdeed, that the recommendation of the
nunzio failed to procure his elevation to the mitre ; but
this may be easily accounted for, if we bear in mind that
the pope's representative looked with suspicion on all can-
didates proposed to him by the supreme council. As a
matter of course, he forwarded to Kome the memorial
signed by the bishops and temporal peers, praying that
Burgat would be appointed ; bnt although he subscribed
the instrument, and stated that he was personally acquainted
with the candidate, and knew him to be equal to the re-
quirements of a bishop; nevertheless, he was chary of
praise, and his recommendation lacked that warmth and
colouring, without which he was well aware it could not
possibly succeed. It would, however, be a gross injustice
to the nnnzio's memory, to suppose that he was capable of
playing a double part ; but it must be admitted that his
conduct in the particular instance at which we have glanced,
as well as in many others of a similar nature, proves him to
have been weakminded, and somewhat inconstant — in fact,
one of those who are as sensitive to first impressions as
they are quick to efiface them, on discovering tnat they are
nothing but shadow, surface, and outline. This peculiarity
might have been a defect of^ temperament, and therefore
pardonable ; but the traits which rendered his character
unaraiable, and gave umbrage to the frank and buoyant
Irish, with whom he was constantly in contact, were frigid
reserve, formal manners, immobility under most exciting

SIS THX IRISH HIBBA.RGHT IIT

cireomstaneefl, and perpetual anxiety, to m^rstify all his
projects, in the hope of producing effects which he meant
to be sudden and striking ; but which, when realized, far
from startling or amazing, proved to be nothing more than
ordinary results of a pl(^(ung brain. We may also add
that he lacked decision, treated friend and foe with the
same impassibility, and allowed aU suitors to leave his
presence with a conviction that he interested himself in
their schemes aud aspirations, while in reality he had little
or no sympathy with anything that did not bear directly on
the object of his mission.

This estimate of Rinuccini's character, far from being
fanciful or overcoloured, is, on the whole, faithful, and,
indeed, nothing less than a duplicate of the portrait made
of him by Belhng, who was his companion on the memor-
able voyage from Rochelle to Kenmare, and had ample
opportunity during the three years of tiie nunziature, to
make himself acquainted with his inner and outward man.
Justice, however, compeUs us to acknowledge that Selling's
was no loving hand, and this reflection miffht lead us to
conclude that the charge of inconstancy and want of deci-
sion was invented, if we had not from the nunzio*s own pen
ample evidence to show that the broad shadowing of nis
picture was nowise exaggerated. Pretermitting many
passages of his letters, which would not be pertinent here^
we need onlv repeat that, on his arrival in li^land, he
urged the holy see to appoint Terence A. O'Brien to the
coadjutorship of Emly, and that in three months afterwards
he postulatea in behalf of Burgat, who, he said, was fully
qualified for the dignity, and naiilly, after the lapse of six
months, he wrote again to Some, to have Buigat super-
seded, and O'Brien preconized in his stead. The holy see^
however, had already anticipated the latter recommenda-
tion, for although Kinuccini tnay have been ignorant of the
fact, or wished to keep it a secret, O'Brien's elevation to
the diocese of Emly had been determined in the last year
of the pontificate of Urban VIII. , that is to say, in 1644.
Burgat, indeed, might have proved as sood a bishop as
O'Brien, but the biography of the latter forbids us to sup-
pose that he could have been excelled as a true and emi-
nently distinguished patriot.

Terence Aloert O'Brien was born in the ^ear 1600, in the
city of Limerick, of parents who were said to trace their

THE SBVENTEENTH CENTXrET. 219

descent from the princes of Thomond ; but be that as it
may, he was destined to reflect fresh lustre on the historic
name he bore, and to tnaintain its honour and integrity at
a period when others of the same ancient race were degrad-
ing it by recreancy to religion and country. While yet a
child he received the earliest rudiments of education from
his pious mother, and an aged priest who found constant
welcome and protection in his jather's mansion, and who,
in all likelihood, was the first to inspire him with the notion
of devoting himself to the ministry. As he grew to boy-
hood the desire struck deeper root in his heart, and he lost
no time in placing himself m communication with!his uncle,
Maurice O Brien, who was then prior of the Dominican
convent of his native city. The uncle wes not slow in se-
conding the lad's wishes, and he accordingly had him
received into the poor novitiate of the friars preachers — for
we need hardly say that the monastery of St. Saviour,
founded in the thirteenth century, by Donat O'Brien, had
Ions since shared the fate of other religious houses in Ire-
land. Father Maurice was a tender tutor to the young
aspirant during the probationary term, and at its close he
ha^ the satisfaction of seeing him duly admitted —

** One of the lambs of that blest flock
Which Dominic so leads in righteous ways f—Danie.

in other words, a professed member of the order of preachers.
The prior's next care was to provide for his nephew^s philo-
sophical and theological education, and in order to petfect
him in these branches, he sent him to the convent of St.
Peter Martyr, at Toledo, where there was then a vacancy
for an Irish student. Young O'Brien accordingly set out
for the far-famed city of unrivalled swords, the seat of the
Spanish metropolitan, and arrived just he had entered his
twentieth year.

The Dominican school of Toledo was then one of the
most renowned in Spain, and the professors who filled its
various chairs were far-famed for their erudition in evet^
department of knowledge. Under such able masters, it
was only natural to expect that one gifted with the genius
and earnestness of purpose which had fallen to young
O'Brien's lot, should make rapid progress, not only in the
Aristotelian philosophy, which St. Tnomas of Aquino had
Vedttced to regular system, but also in the ''Sum of Theo-.

220 TBE IBISH HIBBARCnr IN

logy," which for many centuries had been reco^ized as tiie
grand code of Latin Christianity, embodying all the moral
and dogmatic doctrines of the Church. It is to be re-
gretted that we have only few and spare allusions to
O'Brien's collegiate career; but such as have come under
onr notice warrant us in believing that he distinguished
himself as a student, and proved to his CastiUan teachers
that he possessed an intellect to which the fine distinctions
and subtle definitions of the angelic doctor were nowise
impalpable. At length, after having passed eight years
in the cloisters of St. Peter's, he was ordained priest,
and as the exi^;encies of the Irish mission were then pres-
asi^, his supenors commanded him to lose no time in pre-
panng for the homeward journey. Sad must have been
the leave-takins when he bade adieu to the good fathers of
St. Peter's, and looked his last on the Alcazar and towers
of Toledo's rich cathedral— sad, no doubt, must have been
his farewells as he turned from the banks of the Tagus to-
wards those of the Shannon ; but what would they have
been had some angel's hand lifted the veil that mercifully
hid the future from his eyes ?

On arriving in Ireland, the scene of his first mission was
limerick, where he abode with the Dominican fathers in a
house which they rented in the city, and where they lived
in community as well as the circumstances of the times
fluUowed. It was a period of peril to all priests, but to those
of the religious orders especially; for Falkland, the lord
deputy, was their enforcmg the penal enactments, and
racking and otherwise torturing various priests, supposed
to be emissaries from the son of the late earl of Tyrone,
who, if rumour could be believed, was prepario^r to invade
Ireland from Flanders. That the apprehension of the
government in regard to this business was purely affected,
18 quite certain : out lord Falkland made it a pretext for
setting a strict watch on such of the clergy as he imagined
were corresponding with their brethren in Spain, or else-
where beyond seas. We can, therefore, conceive with
what circumspection the priests, secular and regular, had
to act in order to be able to discharge their duty to the
people, and avoid the suborned delators, who were ever on
the alert for the wi^e of their infamy. Strange, however.
as it may appear, the government at that period did not
entertain so virulent a hatred for the Irish Dominicans as

THE SXyXMTKINTH OVSTUtiY. ^1

it did for the Franciscans, and consequently the former
were allowed to enjoy a comparative freedom of ac-
tion. This, indeed, may seem anomalous, but it will
cease to be so if we remember that the Franciscans were
the most nnmeroos of all the religious orders then in Ire-
Ian d, and the most notorious for weir adhesion to Tyrone
and O'Donnell during the late war. We may also observe,
that the Irish chieftains employed the Franciscans as their
agents at foreign courts, ip&tromzed them as their annalists,
and selected tneir churches in Valladolid, as well as in
Rome, for their place of sepulture. The Dominicans, on
the other hand, took no demonstrative part in the trans-
actions to which we have alluded ; and this single circum-
atance accounts for the toleration extended to them by
Falkland and some of his predecessors.

Availing himself, therefore, of the opportimities which
were thus afforded him for doing gocKl, Father O'Brien
settled down in the little convent at Limerick, where, with
the rest of his brethren, he toiled through many dreary
vears, in the quiet performance of the duties which be-
longed to his calling. Affable and unaffected, he was
universally esteemed tor every good attribute, but above all,
for that true modesty, which has ever been the distinctive
mark of steady heads and great souls. Carefully eschewing
notoriety, that despicable ambition of vulgar minds, he
spent his time as became a true son of St. Dominic,
labouring for the preservation of the faith, incxdcating its
morality, dispensing its blessings, and proving, however
unconsciously, that he was a Uving commentary on the
holy rule he professed. Most marked, indeed, was the
contrast between the humble chapel of the Limerick con-
vent and those splendid temples of Toledo where he had
passed his youth ; but if the poverty and simplicity of the
mrmer ever caused him a regret, he assuredly had where-
with to console him, when he^ reflected that the highest
efforts of human genius could produce no ornament so
worthy of God's house as ijiat true piety and faith of which
he >vas a daily witness, and which his precept and ex«
aootple kept alive and active in willing heaits.

The deplorable absence of all documents, manuscript at
well as printed, relating to the Dominican community at
Limerick, during the sixteen years Father O'Brien spent
there, must account for our silence on that long interv^

222 THE IRISH HIEIULItCHY IM

which we may reasonably conjecture, could not have passed
without incidents and episodes of thrilling interest. For-
tunately, however, there is evidence to prove that his abil-
ities, zeal, and prudence were duly valued by his snperioni
at home and abroad ; so much so, that he was twice elect-
ed prior of his native convent, aiter having already held
the same grade as that of Lorragh. But a far more re-

SK>nsible dignity was reserved for him in 1643, when the
ominican Chapter, assembled in the abbey of the Trinity
at Kilkenny, unanimously elected him their provincial A
short time previously he had seen his native city identify
itself with the confederates, and we may readily imagine
with what feelings of gratitude he and the other members
of his order must have regarded the men who restored to
them that splendid temple, which William Af arshall, earl
of Pembroke, in 1225, erected for the honour of God, and
as a last resting place for himself.

Towards the close of 1643, Father O'Brien was called to
Rome, to assist at a general Chapter of the Dominicans,
which was held in the following year, when many ordi-
nances were decreed for the better government of the Irish
province, and the revival of the order in Ireland, where it
had Bufifered so terribly during the persecutions of Eliza*
beth and James I. The Acte of this Chapter, indeed,
throw some light on the state of the Irish Church at ^e

Seriod, and it is only reasonable to suppose that we are in-
ebted to O'Brien for the valuable information tiiey con-
tain. As provincial, he must have been consulted by the
Seneral on all matters affecting the order in Ireland ; and,
oubtless, it was he who, when a question was raised about
precedency between the Irish priors, decided the point by
a quotation from an ancient manuscript, preserved in tlie
works of Sir James Ware. In fact, tiiere can be little
doubt that the council was mainly guided by Father
O'Brien's judgment in all its decisions regarding ** Domin-
can Ireland," for, assuredly, there was no Irishman then
present better qualified to deal with subjects of such im-
portance. We may also remark, that his inspirations are
clearly perceptible in the projected revival of Dominican
schools m Dublin, Limerick^ Cashel, Athenry, and Cole-
raine; and also in those decrees which have special re-
ference to the Irish Dominican institutions for men and
women in Lisbon. It was he, doubtiess, who moved thalJI

THE SEYXNTZKNTH CXNTUBT. 223

all the alms given to the far-famed miraculous image of the
Blessed Virgin at Youghal, should be applied to the use of
the Dominican convent of that town ; and we may furtiier
state that it was he who recommended that the convent of
Sr. Peter^s Cell, in Limerick, should be confirmed to Dame
Catherine Duggan, and the other ladies who resided with
her there. These few facts show that the council enter-
tained profound respect for Father O'Brien's wisdom and
experience ; and, indeed, the general of the order was so
thoroughly convinced of his deserts, that he would not
Bufifer mm to leave Rome without some sensible mark of
his appreciation. He, therefore, sanctioned the decree
which raised O'Brien to a mastership in theology, and fur-
ther enhanced this honour by appointing him judge in
Munster, with ample powers to decide all controversies that
might arise, regarding the ancient limits and boimdaries of
the Dominican convents in that province.

As soon as the council terminated its sessions, O'Brien
set out for Lisbon, to visit the Dominican houses which had
been founded in that city bv O'Daly, who was then en-
gaged on his '* History of the Geraldines," a work, we
may observe, which is the best that has yet appeared on
the subject of which it treats. Would to heaven that
O'Daly had left us a fuller biographv of his friend, for, in-
deed, the notices he has given of him in the ** Persecu-
tions,*' are meagre and most unsatisfactory. O'Daly, how-
ever, could not nave foreseen the fate that was in reserve
for O'Brien, or assuredly he would have taken more pains
to acquaint himself wiui all. the particulars o! his family
and early life.

About the middle of July, 1644, while O'Brien was still
in Lisbon, intelligence from E«me led his friends to believe
that it was the intention of Urban VIII. to advance him
to the coadjutorship of Emly ; and, indeed, this announce-
ment seemed so reliable, that he at once set out for Ireland,
to take part in the election of his successor in the provin-
cialate. There can be little doubt that pope Urban did
mean to have him consecrated bishop, but as his holiness
died in the very month the nomination is said to have been
made, the bulls were not dispatched ; and O'Brien's pro-
motion was consequently postponed, and did not take
^ace before the third year of the pontificate of Innocent
X To differ with such a hi^h authority as the learned

224 THB IRISH HIEBAKCHY IK

de Burgo, on a matter-of-fact, may appear rash or presampta-
ous, but the documentary evidence on which our statement
rests, is too well authenticated to leave any doubt that that
most reverend personage was mistaken as to the date of
O'Brien's consecration.

On his return to Ireland, O'Brien fixed his residence in
the convent of Limerick, where, as provincial and prior, he
exerted himself indefatigably for the interests of his order,
which had recently gained a large accession to its members
from Home, Lonvain, and other places on tiie continent.
The state of Ireland at the period called for this influx, for
it was looked upon as the fitting time for the reconstruction
of all those venerable corporations which had been scattered
by the sword of persecution during the preceding two reigns.
Kow, however, a notable change had come over the entire
island. The greater part of it was in the power of the con-
federates, who led the religious orders to believe that they
should be speedily repossessed of their suppressed monas-
teries, and probably of a good portion of their lands, for
which some of the lay-impropriators were disposed to com-
pound. The people, it need nardly be told, were delighted
at the prospect that unfolded itself to their imaginings ; for
they flattered themselves that they would soon exchange
their inexorable lay-tyrants for ecclesiastical bodies, who,
in all ages, were proverbially the best and most indulgent
landlords. It was only natural that a man of O'Brien's
ardent temperament should have shared the general enthu-
siasm ; nay, and persuaded himself that the religious com-
munities were on the eve of being redeemed for ever from
the trammels of those sanguinary laws which had heretofore
doomed them to death and expatriation. May we not
therefore suppose that he counted on seeing his own order
re-established, its grand old sanctuaries restored to their
rightful owners, and the youth of the land frequenting
Dominican schools, as they did in those days when the
friars-preachers built the^r^^ bridge across the Liffey for
the convenience of their scholars ? At that moment, indeed,
the course of events was calculated to confirm his belief in
these f orecastings ; and if it ever occurred to him that they
were nothing more than pleasing illusions, surely all mis-
givings must have vanished when ^e heard that a high
minister from the holy see had already lauded on the Irish
coast^ bringing with him arms, specie, and munitiona for

THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 225

the encouragement and maintenance of the confederate
Catholics.

Although Binuccini's correspondence does not mention
the fact, there is every reason to suppose that father O'Brien
was present at the grand reception given to that personage
on his arrival in Limerick ; nor can we doubt that he
assisted in another solemnity that took place there, when
the nunzio^ accompanied by Walsh, archbishop of Cashel,
the clergy, secular and regular, and the entire garrison,
walked to St. Mary's, to give God thanks for the signal
defeat which the Scotch covenanters had sustained at Ben-
burb. All Limerick was astir on this occasion, and the
nunzio himself tells us that even the windows were filled
with groups anxious to get a sight of the tattered banners
that were wrested from the covenanters on the victorious
field. How could the provincial of tbe Dominicans and
prior of Limerick be absent at a moment of such thrilling
solemnity ? A few days afterwards there was another dis-
play of a similar character in the streets of the ancient city,
when the nunzio again went to St. Mary's, to chaunt Te
Deum for the fall of Bunratty, where he himself directed
the siege operations, and father Collins, a Dominican,
crucifix in hand, led the storming party to the breach,
and drove the enemy out of their entrenchments.
The acquisition of this place was a matter of great moment
to the confederates, and as its capture was in some measure
due to a simple Dominican priest, it is more than hkely
that his provincial did not absent himself from the solem-
nity which Rinuccini caused to be observed in honour of
such an important event.

As the forgoing notices of father O'Brien are at best only
conjectural, we now turn to others that are beyond the
reach of all doubt and cavil. We have already said that
he was not consecrated in 1644, as De Burgo and 0*Daly
would have us believe, aud this assertion is fully borne out
by the nunzio, who, in a letter dated Kilkenny, January
1st, 1646, writes thus: — "Father Terence, provincial of
the Dominicans, is a man of prudence and sagacity. He
has been in Italy, has had considerable experience ; and
the bishop who wishes to have him for his coadjutor is, I
am told, m very feeble health." Eight months after the
date of that letter, that is to say, in August, 1646, when
the bishop of £mly was on the point of death, the nunzio

Q

226 THE IRISH HIERABCHT lUt

wrote again to Rome, reoommending various candidates for
dioceses that were then either vacant or about to be so, and
among others, he distinctly names O'Brien, " as one who
deserved the highest advancement Kome could bestow, and
whose claims and qualifications were duly set forth in a
memorial which the clergy had forwarded in his favour.
The answer, however, did not reach Ireland till October,
1647, when Kinuccini had the satisfaction of learning that
the holy see sanctioned O'Brien's promotion, and that of the
other candidates for whom he was interested. O'Brien's
consecration was solemnized in the following November,
but we confess our inability to name the churdii where th«
ceremony was performed. It is certain, however, that the
nunzio acted as cousecratin^ prelate on the occasion ; and
there is some reason for beheving that the function took
place in Kilkenny, either in the Dominican church, or in
the cathedral of St. Canice.

Having now attained the dignity to which he was well
entitled, O'Brien lost no time in taking possession of his
see, and making* provision for the flock committed to his
charge. But the condition of his people at that period was
truly deplorable, and the wild raids of the renegade Inchi-
quin afforded him little opportunity for tending his diocese
as he would fain have done. The victory of Conoc-na-noss
made Inchiquin absolute master of nearly all Munster for a
while, and no part of suffered so fearfully us the district
Ijdng west of CasheL Brief space, therefore, had the bishop
for repairing and reconciling the dismantled and desecrated
churches; and as Inchiqum hated the nunzio, we may
readily conceive with what feelings he must have regarded
a prelate who, though of his own name and race, was de-
votedly and zealously attached to the policy of the Italian*
Nevertheless, O'Brien did all he could for his poor flock,
exhorting them to patience and endurance under their hard
trials, and labouring as well as the circumstances of the
times allowed to keep the faith alive and active in their
hearts. It is needless to observe, that in performing these
duties he exposed himself to creat risk, and had to be con-
stantly on his guard against Inchiquin's followers, many of
whom, like their chief, were recreants to creed and country.
Withal, he did his work earnestly and efficiently, breaking
the bread of life to the young and old on the hill-sides and
in the glens, till the Ulster Irish, under Owen O'Neill,

THE SEVENTEENTH CBNTXTRy. -227

swooped down on tlie plaihs of Mnnster, drove Inchiqtiin
before them, and placed the Catholics once more in posses-
sion of their churches. Triumphs such as these, however,
were short lived; and the reverses that followed in quick
succession compelled the pastor to leave his flock in charge
of a vicar, while he himself was absent at Kilkenny, advo-
cating the nunzi</s policy, condemning the truce with
Inchiquin, and a]tproving the fatal recourse to excommuni-
cation and interdict against all abettors of that unsatisfac-
tory adjustment. Anticipating the consequences of this
])roceedmg, the nunzio fled to Galway, to watch the course
of events, and make preparations for his departure from the
scene of his ill-starred mission.

Meanwhile, lord Ormond returned to Ireland, resumed
the government, and intimated that the nunzio must leave
the kingdom with all possible speed. As for Ormond, some
of the bishops, French, of Ferns ; O'Dwyer, of Limerick ;
and John, archbishop of Tuam, hailed his arrival as the
harbinger of a new era, and employed all their logic to con-
vince their colleagues that the salvation of Ireland could
not be effected till it accepted his dictatorship, or in other
words, submitted itself to kis guidance. It was deemed
expedient, therefore, to get up a congratulatory address
embodying this sentiment ; and tiie prelates we have named
wrote to Walsh, archbishop of Oashel ; Oomerford, of Wa-
terford, and O'Brien, of Emly, inviting them to Kilkenny,
to take part in the proceeding which, as was alleged, had
already been approved at Home. O'Brien obeyed the sum-
mons ; but on finding that the projected address was not
authorized by the hmy see, he made his escape from Kil-
kenny, and set out for Galway, to give the unfortunate
nunzio the last proof of his unaltered allegiance. He was-
not destined, however, to have that melancholy satisfaction,
for on arriving at a village, within three miles of Galway,
word was brought him, that the *' San Pietro '' had come
round from Waterford, and sailed with the nunzio and his
suite for the coast of France. What could O'Brien do but
wish his friend and patron a fair wind to waft him on his
way, and keep him clear of the parliamentary ships that
were then cruising in the Irish waters under the command
of the notorious Hunket?

Notwithstanding all the difficulties that beset him for his
devotedness to Einucdui'a policy, O'Brien returned to his

228 TBB IRISH HISEABGHY IK

diocese sooa after the former had taken his departare, and'
remained there toiling for his flock till May, 1650, when the
progress of the Cromwellians compelled mm to return to
Galway. At that period Munster was a scene of desolation
and carnage ; among those who sealed their loyalty with
their blood was Boetius Etgan, bishop of Ross, whom Brog-
hill executed in the neighbonrhood of Oarrigadrohid. A
brave and enei^getic prelate, indeed, was that good Boetius;
and even at the risk of digressing, we may not omit a brief
notice of him.

He was a native of Duhallow, in the county of Cork, took
the habit in the Franciscan monastery of Louvain, was the
contemporary and friend of Colgan, Fleming, and other
great men, whose names are famous in Irish literature, and
returned to Irehmd many years before the insurrection of
1641. The nunzio esteemed him highly ; thought him the
fittest man for the see of B.c6s ; and^ despite the opposition
of Muskerry and others of lord Ormond's partizans, had
him consecrated in 1648. The Ormondists were loud in
their outcries against his advancement, strove to withhold
from him the temporalities of his see, and did their utmost
to deprive him of a seat in the assembly, on the plea that
the pope could confer no temporal barony in Ireland. All
this clamour, however, was overruled by Binuccini and the
Irish bishops, and Boetius Egan accordingly took his nlace
in the legislature. As matter of course, he remained un-
shaken in his fidelity to the nunzio, seconded all his views,
and endeavoured to have them carried out in his diocese.
His tenure of the episcopate was brief indeed ; for when
the Cromwellians had overrun Carberry, he was obliged to
betake himself to the fastnesses of Kerry, where David
Koche, had cantoned some- six or seven hundred confederate
soldiers. Along with this force the bishop marched into
the county Cork, and on the 1st May, 1650, just as the
vanguard nad reached Macroom, lord Broghill attacked and
routed it, apd made the bishop prisoner, oroghill, we need
hardly say, was a merciless scoundrel ; for aluiough he had
pledged his word that no harm should be done the captive
prelate, he, nevertheless, caused him to be hanged with the
reins of his horse, on a hill overlooking Carrigadrohid, and
there left his remains, till they were removed, at dead of
night, by some commiserating peasants, who buried them
in the ancient cemetery of Aghma.

THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 229

In Aueust of the same year^ 1650, O'Brien acted with
those prelates, who, after (uscarding lord Ormond, and in-
Risting on the appointment of Clanricarde as viceroy, sent
A deputation to the du^e of Lorraine, offering him the pro-
tectorate of Ireland, on certain conditions, which, as we
have seen in a former paper, were never realised. He then
returned to his diocese, and after a sojourn there, fixed his
final abode in Limerick, just as Ireton was marching on
that devoted city.

As the history of the siege is too well known to need re-
petition here, our notices must be limited to such passages
as have special reference to the bishop of Emly, and, in-
deed, it is almost superfluous to state that his conduct dar-
ing that six months' memorable struggle, was honourable
and heroic to the last. In the midst of the pestilence
which carried off five thousand citizens, he proved himself
a man of zeal and charity, and in the council chamber,
where a clique of traitors from time to time insisted on the
necessity of capitulating, he protested energetically against
all accommodation with Ireton. It has been said that the
latter offered him a large sum of money, with freedom to
go where he liked, provided he induced the garrison to sur-
render ; but although such assertion may be gratuitous,
there are instances enough to show that he was as true as
he was uncompromising. O'Dwyer, bishop of Limerick, and
Walsh, archbishop of Cashel, were within the walls during
the siege, but neither of them acted the brave and manly
part which earned for O'Brien the inexorable hostility of
Ireton. The two former dienitaries, indeed, laboured un-
sparingly in the pest-house for the spiritual comiort of the
plague-stricken, and in the hospitals, which were crowded
Dy soldiers mortally wounded ; but O'Brien, Instead of con-
fining himself to hospital or pest-house, made the ramparts
the scene of his charitv, and there, like cardinal Ximenes,
and other fighting prelates, with whose history his Spanish
studies made him acquainted, he acted the double role of
priest and soldier, encouraging the faint-hearted, and ab-
solving the dying as they fell at his feet.

It must also be recorded* to his honour, that he sternly
opposed Ireton's proposals from first to last, and did his
utmost to convince the council of war that the city had
abundant resources to sustain a more protracted siege ; and,
finally, that approaching winter, ^dearth, and infection

^3(1 THS IRISH HIERARCHY IN

must conipel the parliamentarian general to break np his
camp, and retire from before the walls* The divisions,
however, that grew rife in the town, and above all, the
treason of Fennell, whom major-general O'Neill so un-
wisely spared at Clonmel, marred all his patriotic efiforts,
and gave limerick to Ireton. The latter, as might be ex-
pected, could not but regard O'Brien as his mortal and per-
sistent enemy, and, notwithstauding all negotiations which
were attempted in his behalf, nothing could induce Ireton
to include him in the list of those who were '^received to
pardon."

Knowiiig the fate that was in reserve for him, when the
city surrendered, O'Brien retired to the pest-house, not»
indeed, for the purpose of secreting himself, as has be^i.
commonly thought, but rather that he might devote the
last moments of his life to the benefit of his suffering fellow-
citizens, and prepare himself for death. The officers who
were charged with his arrest found him thus employed, and
they instantly conducted him to the headquarters of Ireton,
who told him that he was to be tried by a court-martial,
and imprisoned till sentence was found. O'Brien heard
this witnout moving a muscle ; and when Ireton demanded
did he want counsel, he calmly replied, that all he re-
quired was his confessor. This boon was granted, and
ukther Hanrahan, a member of his own order, was suffered
to pass the whole day and night of the 30th October with
him in his prison cell On the following evening the find-
ing of the court was announced to him, as he lay stripped
on a pallet, and the officer charged with this lugubrious
duty gave him to understand that the sentence was to be
carried out on the instant. On hearing this he got up to
dress himself, but before he had time to do so, the piovost-
marshal's guard pinioned his arms, and thrust him out of
the cell almost in a state of nudity. It was only natural
that his fine sense of delicacy should resent this cruel in-
sult, but finding that all remonstrances were lost on the
posse who surrounded him, he paused an instant, as if to
collect himself, and said, in a solemn tone, that **the
time was not distant when Ireton should stand before
God's tribunal to account for his bloody deeds." Surely
they must have jeered him as a prophet of evil !
^ It was a long way from the prison to the place of execu-
tion, and as the cortege proceeded it was encountered at

THK SEVSNTEENTH CKNTURT. 231

every step by edghts more appalling than that of a man
going to the gafiowts. For two days previously Iretou'i
troo|)s had been allowed to pillage and slay as they liked,
and there was hardly a house that did not bear witness to
their fierce licentiousness. Windows shattered, doors
wrenched from the hinges, corses of men and women lying
stark in the kennels, wares of every sort scattered and
trodden imder foot, showed that destructiveness had
revelled to satiety. No living thing appeared alonff the
route of that sad procession, and uie universal stiOness
would have been unbroken were it not for the heavy tread
of the doomed man's escort, and the ringing of their
weapons as they clinked on the pavement. 0*£rien, how-
ever, conducted himself with his accustomed firmness, and
though distressed at being obliged to parade the deserted
thoroughfares on that winter's evening in a state little short
of absolute nakedness, his step was as steady and his bear-
ins erect as either could have been on that memorable dav
when he followed the trophies of Benburb to St. Mary^
cathedral. On reaching the foot of the gibbet, he knelt and
prayed till he was commanded to arise and mount the
ladder. He obeyed, seized the nmgs with vigorous grasp,
and turned round, as if anxious to ascertain whether any of
the citizens had ventured abroad to witness his death-scene.
Having satisfied himself that a few of them were present,
and within hearine, he exhorted them to continue true to
the faith of their Others, and hope for better days, when
God would look with mercy on unhappy Ireland. A few
moments more, and his soul was with the just. Thus did
Terence Albert d'firien pass out of this life, on All Saints'
Eve, 1651. As soon as life was extinct, the executioner
lowered the body to the ground, and after the soldiers had
discharged their muskets at it, he hacked off the head, and
im|)aled it on the tower of St. John's gate, where it
remained many a day, a ghastly evidence of Lreton's vindic-
ti VCD ess.

O'firien's execution was speedily followed by that of
many priests of the Dominican order, among the most
distinguised of whom were fathers Wolf and Collins. The
one belonged to an ancient Limerick family, which had
already given a hostage to the Church in the person of the
celebrated legate of the same name ; and as for Collins, it is
hardly necessary to remind the reader that it was he who

2S2 TUE IRISH HIKRAPvCHY IN

led the storming party at Bunratty. Both were sentenced
by court-martial, and both died as became them, with
christian courage and christian hope. Ireton, indeed, dealt
unsparingly with the Dominicans, for he knew that tney
were the nnnzio's most faithful and uncompromising ad-
herents, and that every member of the order, with one
solitary exception, advocated his policy, not only while he
was in Ireland, but when he was far away in his princi-
pality of i'ermo. Persistently heroic during the siege, they*
exhibited the same undaunted composure on the scaffold,
and their conduct in the latter instance contrasted strongly
with that of the temporizing major-general Purcell, who
swooned at sight of the halter, and had to be assisted by
two musketeers while mounting the ladder.

Among the laymen who suffered at this time there were
two whom we may not pass over in silence. These were
Dominic Fanning and a personage whom a contemporary
manuscript styles the baron of Castleconnell. Fanning, we
need hardly say, was in the interest of the nunzio's party
throughout, and when the city surrendered, he fled and
secreted himself in the tomb of his ancestors in the Francis-
can church. While lying hid there, a picket entered the
place, and lit a fire for the purpose of cooking ; and when
Fanning saw them thus employed, he crept out, and be-
grimed as he was, sat down to warm himself. The captain
of the party kicked him off, and he then endeavoured to
escape out of the city, but was arrested at the gate, brought
back, and being identified, was immediately hanged. The
servant, it seems, involved himself soon afterwards iriththe
soldiers, and in a scufiie that ensued wa» killed on the spot
by the captain who had driven Fanning from the Are. The
writer to whom we are indebted for this information, gives
the following account of the baron of Castleconnell : —
'* Being sentenced to die, he applied to Ireton for respite of
execution till his return from his lodgings, where he broke
open his trunks, and finding there a new suite of white
taffetty, he attired himself in it. He then rode gallantly to
the place of execution, and behaved so jocosely that he
caused wonder. Being asked about change of clothes, he
replied, ' that if to marry a creature he would have done
no less, why should I not do so now when I believe I am
about to marry heaven f " Who this baron was we have
not been able to ascertain, but it may be remarked that the

THE SEVENTEENTH GENTUET. 2^3

title was in dispnte at that period. Of O'Dwyer, bishop of
Limeriek^ and the archbishop of Cashel, we have only to
add that Ludlow pleaded for the former, that he did not
belong to the extreme or nunzio's party, and that the latter
bad 3ie same extenuating circumstances in his favour.
O'Dwyer was suffered to escape, and the archbishop went
•quietly away, "both," says the author already quoted,
'* being protected because they were of the party of Ormond
4tnd Chinriearde."

It was on the 10th of November, when all ^s cold-
blooded butchery was done, that Ireton was seized with the
epidemic, whion had been ravaging the whole island for
nearly an entire year. In the course of a few days he

§rew gradually worse and more faint, and, at length, in-
ammatory fever supervened. " In his delirium," says sir
Philip Warwick, '* he shouted repeatedly, * blood 1 blood I
I must have more blood !'" and if we may believe other
writers who had similar 0])portunitie8 for informing them^
selves concerning the last moments of this cruel man, the
bishop of Emly was so palpably before him, that he had to
turn his face to the wall to avoid the ghastly sight. In the
wild outbursts of his frenzy he over and over again repeated
that he was guiltless of the bishop's death, that he nad no
hand in it, and tiiat the court-martial alone was responsible
for the sentence and execution. These, however, were
nothing more than echoes of a guilty conscience, unsoftened
by a single expression of regret or repentance — unavailing
protestations and arguments thrown away on the bloody
spectre that never (|uit his bedside till God called him to
judgment, after sixteen days of unmitigated suffering.
I^Q&X we say that O'Brien's prophecy was fulfilled, and
may we not suppose that he oonfronted his murderer at
God's tribunal !

There can be no doubt that Ireton's conduct to O'Brien
was merciless and exceptional, for he pardoned Hugh
O^Neill, who was as obstinate as the bishop in refusing to
capitulate ; nay, more, had Ireton been disposed to act
considerately or Impartially, he surely would have disco-
vered that the man by whom he was beaten at Clonmel,
and who left him nothing there but * * a breached and bloody
wall," was less entitled to mercy than an ecclesiastical dig-
nitary, who, as such, was nowise amenable to a military
tribunal. The remonstrances of his officers induced him to

2H THX IBISH HIXBARCHT TSf

cancel the sentence pronounced against O'Neill ; and
0*Dwyer, though excepted from the articles of ti«aty»
received protection at his hands. Why he did not extend
the same benefit to O'Brien we cannot say, but it may be
fairly presumed that anv kindly feeling he possessed must
have been neutralized by his intense hatred of that illus-
trious personage.

In conclusion, let us mention a fact not generally known.
Ireton not only pardoned O'Neill, but oon^rred on him un-
mistakable proofs of his esteem and friendship, " for," says
the M.S. authority from which these particulars are taken,
'*so tender was Ireton of O'Neill's safety, that he charged
his lieutenant, upon* pain of his displeasure, to wait on him;
and when he was on the point of deaths he commanded his
said lieutenant to use all good behayiour to the Irish geaera!,
and send him with his corse into England. He also be-
stowed on him three horses, one for himself, the other two
for two senrants to wait on him, with a lackey, all at his
proper expense. And so it was, for Hugh O'Neill accopi-
panied the remains to London, and he was there released."
The corse, we need hardly add, was buried with great
pomp in Westminster Abbey, but it does not appear that
O'Neill was present when John Owen, minister of the Gos-
pel, delivered Ireton*s funeral oration, which he afterwards
published under the title of *' The Labouring Saint's Dis-
mission to Rest."

CHAPTER IX.

At the commencement of these papers we stated that the
secret instructions given to Rinuccini, when about to set
out for Ireland, charged him to select as his special and
most confidentiid advisers, Malachy, archbishop of Tuam,
and Heber, bishop of Clogher, whose zeal, clearsightedness,
and ability in the management of public business, had won
them hign repute at the court of Rome. HaviDg spoken
of the former of these prelates, we will now address our-
selves to the biography of the latter, whose fidelity to the
cause of religion and country has made his name famous in
popular ballads, as well as in those graver pages, where
friend and foe have represented him as a grand historic/
figure.

THE SKVENTB5NTH CENTUKT. 235

Heber, or Emeric, son of Turlotigh MacMahon and Eva
0*Neill, was bora in Monaghan, in 1600, a year memorable
for the arrival in Ireland of the lord deputy Monntjoy,
whose acknowledged ability as a statesman and general
was destined to cruah the Spaniards at Kinsale, and subjn-
eate the entire island to English role. Heber's father had
fought on the side of the northern chieftains, from the
beginning of the war which the latter waged against
queen Elizabeth; and on every field from Clontibret
to the great victory of the Blackwater, he acted the
part of a brave soldier, proving himself on all
occasions a worthy representative of an ancient race,
always renowned for valarous achievements. The child,
Heber, was only seven years old when his kinsman, James v
CoUa MacMahon, was obliged to join the Earls in'^eir
flight from lough Swilley ; and in the course of a few years
afterwards, his father was reduced to comparative poverty
by the bill of attainder, which proscribed the fugitives and
their adherents, and confiscated the best part of Ulster to
the crown. Obliged to seek shelter with the survivors of
O'NeiU's and O'Donnell's clansmen in the then almost in-
accessible wilds of Donegal, Turlough, with his wife, Eva,
and their only child, fixed his residence in the vicinity of
Kilybegs, and there lived as best they could, hoping that he
would, sooner or later, be restored to some parcel of those
grand domains which were so cruelly and unjustly wrested
from him and his. Kews, however, reached Ireland to-
wards the close of ^608, that James MacMahon and his
companion in misfortune, lord Maguire had died imme-
diately after their arrival at Genoa; and the executive,
acting on this welcome intelligence, confirmed the
grant of Turlogh's patrimony to the new occupier, and
thus annulled all the claims of the rightful owner. At
that period Turlough was too old to take service in the
Spanish armies ; and as he was suffering from wounds re-
ceived on the disastrous day of Kins2ue, he resolved to
remain at home, and devote the remainder of his days to
the initiating youne Heber, his sole hope, in the rudiments
of the military pro&ssion till the lad would be fit to sail for
Flanders, and tnere enlist into the Irish regiment, which
was then commanded by the eldest son of the banished earl
of Tyrone. Heber, indeed, did inherit the chivalrous in-
stincts of his father ; but his mother, it would appear had
110 ambition to see lum trailing halberd or lance, and Bh%

236 THE Irish fliKRARCfir in

>

eonseqnently resolved that his hopes and aspiffttions shotild
take an opposite direction, and yearn for the still higher
honour of serving in the teeakened ranks of the Church,
then truly mUitarU, in Ireland. Heber seconded his
mother's wishes, and laid down sWord and target for book
and pen ; and that nothing might be wanting to forward
his education, she called into her hamble homestead a
Franciscan friar of Donegal, who, in return for the bread
and shelter afforded him, taught the boy Latin, Greek, and
Spanish, and made him thoroughly familiar with the history
of his unfortunate country. Towards the close of IGIT,
Heber set out for Douay, and entered the Irish college,
which Cussack, a priest of Meath, had endowed in that
old Flemish town. Having completed his philosophical
course there, he removed to Louvain, in order to avail him-
self of the lectures of the learned Franciscan MacCaghwell,
who was then esteemed one of the most profound theo-
logians of his time. What honours or distinctions he may
have obtained during his collegiate cereer we know not ;
but it is certain that his application and industiy were re-
warded with the respect of his various professors, and
secured for him the congratulatious of those truly eminent
Irish ecclesiastics, who tiien devoted themselves to educat-
ing priests for the home mission. At length, having gone
through the prescribed cycle of studies, and a,ttained his
twenty-fifth year, Heber was ordained priest in the chapel
of the Irish Franciscan convent at Louvain ; John Colgan,
DonatuB Mooney, father O'Cleary, and other celebrities
assisting on the occasion. In the interval his parents had
passed out of this life, after seeing their inheritance
alienated to the thrifty colonists with whom James I. re-
placed the native population, and the ancient churches of
Ologher given over to fanatical preachers, Scotch and
English, whose aim was to outroot ** popery" from the soil
where it had flourished so vigorously during those days
when O'Neill and O'Donuell would not suffer any Anglican
priest or prelate to set foot upon it

At the time of his ordination, Louvain and, indeed, every
other garrison town in Flanders, swarmed with Irish troops
commanded by Owen Roe O'Neill, Preston, of the house of
Gormanston, O'Cahan, and others, who were destined to
take part in the eventful vicissitudes of their native land
at a future period. Had MacMahon wished to remain

THK SEVBirrEENTH CENTURY. 237

among fais exiled conntrymen, he could easily have fonnd
advancement at the hands of the archdukes, Albert and
Isabella, then the steadiest f riendB of the Irish Catholics ;
but knowing that his services were required in the land of
his birth, he hastened home, and devoted himself with
heroic zeal to the duties of his calling. On his arrival ia
bis native diocese, he found the Catholics deprived not only
of their lands, but of their churches, and obliged to assist
at the divine sacrifice wherever it could be celebrated,
without attracting the notice of the '* Undertakers," in the
recesses of the mountains, and of teiier still on the hill sides
w^hich commanded a view of the surrounding districts, and
enabled them to take precaution against being surprised or
interrupted. Withal, the people clung steadfastly to the
ancient faith ; and, notwithstanding the perils to which
they were hourly exposed for the observance of its ordi*
nances, nothing could induce them to abandon it or betray
its ministers to the myrmidons of the executive, who were
ever on the alert for their apprehension. The people re-
spected MacMahon not only as a priest, but as one of the
representatives of the ancient nobility of Qlster who had
suffered so much for religion and country ; and we may
easily imagine with what weight his words fell on their
hearts, when he exhorted them to persevere in the same
profession, and beseech Ood to take compassion on their
endurance. Cautiously avoiding all overt acts that could
provoke the intolerance of lord Falkland, and the deputies
who succeeded him, he toiled as a simple priest, twenty
years in the diocese of Clogher ; and so efficiently that
O'Keilly, vicar- apostolic of Kilmore, and eubsequently
archbishop of Armagh, wrote to Rome, that he deserved
the highest honours to which the holy see could advance
him. The primate, doubtless, regarded him as eminently
qualified to preside over the ancient see of Clobber ; in a
word, as one whose election to that dignity would be hailed
with delight by the people, who, in the midst of their re-
verses, still maintained traditional reverence for the son of
the Orgiellian chieftains.

At the commencement of the agitation which heralded
the insurrection of 1641, MacMahon signified to lord Or-
mond, that the Catholics of the north, unable to bear the
oppressions of the Scotch and English undertakers, would
assuredly rise in arms, unless the executive took means to

23S THE IBTSH HIERARCHY IS

protect tbeir li^eB against the repeated acta of aggression t»
which they were hourly exposed ; but this timely warning
was utterly thrown away on Parsons and Borlase, whose
aim was to goad the " papists " to rebellion, in order that
they might share between them the remnant of property
that was still in the hands of the latter. At length, now-
ever, endurance reached its extremest limit, the northern
Catholics appealed to arms, and among those who were in-
volved in the abortive attempt to seize Dublin castle and
the persons of the lords justices, was Hugh MacMahon,
the aear kinsman of the subject of this memoir.

At the outbreak of the revolution. Father Heber exerted
all his power and influence to restrain the licentiousness oi
the multitudes who flocked to the standard of Sir Phelim
O'Neill and the other northern leaders, and such were his
exertions in behalf of the Protestants, that many of them
owed their lives and preservation of their property to his
charitable interference. As soon, however, as the ** rising"
assumed the character of a general movement, he co-oper-
ated with archbishop O'Reilly and the other prelates who
assembled at Kells, and finally at Kilkenny, to direct the
people in laying the foundations of the confederacy. On
«]1 these occasions, the prelates and lay lords gave attentive
ear to his suggestion, and regarded him as one whose wis-
dom was only equalled by his well-known courage. At
length, when the confederacy was fully organized, and the
prelates had resolved to fill those sees that were vacant, a
memorial was forwarded to Rome, praying his holiness.
Urban VIII., to promote MacMahon to the bishopric of
Clogher, as no other could be found more deserving of
such advancement, either by ancient descent or grand ser-
vices rendered to the new government. The holy see
granted the prayer of the petitioner?, and MacMahon was
consecrated at Drogheda, early in 1643, after having held
the see of Down and Connor as bishop-dectior two years pre-
viously.

The motives that determined this selection were twofold
— spiritual and temporal— for the holy see not only appre-
ciated the services which MacMahon had rendered to reli-
gion, but set due value on his acknowledged influence with
the people of his province, who recognised him as the repre-
sentative of their ancient chieftains, and were nowise loath
to follow him to the field, whenever he might find it impe-

THE SBVENTEBNTH CBNTURT. 239

rative to lay aside crook and mitre for sword and helmet.
In fact, he was the fittest man for the dignity to which he
was elevated, for, it is likely that no other could have been
found at the time possessing so many attributes of a militant
prelate. His first essay in that capacity was made a year
before he received the bull appointing him to the see of
Clogher, when he marched at tne head of a strong detach-
ment of troops, to congratulate his early friend, Owen
O'Neill, on his arrival in Ireland, and tender to that brave

feneral the aid of his sword whenever he might need it.
trange as such a j^roposition may appear to us, it could
not shock or surprise O'Neill, who, doubtless, was aware
that many Spanish and Italian prelates, and pope Julius IL
especially, had dared death in the field, and he therefore
accepted the chivalrous offer with a soldier's thankful*
ness.

But what O'Neill desired most at that jnnctnre was the
removal of his kinsman, Sir Phelim, from the command of
the Ulster forces, and to have at his disposal large levies of
stalwart youths who, when, disciplined after the Spanish
fashion, were to be officered by those gallant and experien-
ced men, who had seen service with him in many a cam-
paign, and shared his laurels at Arras. 'Tis almost unne-
cessary to say, that Father Heber voted Owen Roe general-
in-chief of the northern confederates, and spared no effort to
procure recruits for that chieftain's standard, till he had the
satisfaction of seeing him at the nead of a large and highly
disciplined army. Such truly valuable services were fully
recognised at Rome, where father Wadding, and others not
less influential, commended them to the notice of the holy
see ; and we have glanced at them here in order to explain
why it was that Rinuccini was instructed to make a confi-
dent of Heber, bishop of Clogher. The first meeting of
these two personages took place in the castle of Kilkenny,
immediately after the nunzio's arrival in that city, and then
commenced that friendship and continuity of intercoursp,
which lasted through so many years of triumph and rever-
ses. Indeed, one of the nunzio's earliest despatches shows
that MacMahon realized his ideal of a true and energetic
bishop ; for when enumerating the many difficulties he had
to encounter from the opposition of the older prelates, who
made small account of * * the splendour of religion, through
fear of not being able to maintain it," he reports to the holy

^40 THE IRISH HIERARCHY IN

fiee, that the recently consecrated bishop of Ologher was
most anxions for the restoration of the splendour and publi-
city of ecclesiastical ceremonies ; and that that personage,
although guided by political precedents, a£Corded a marked
contrast to the old bishops, who, having passed through
the days of persecution, were constantly haunted by a dread
that such times might come again. They lacked resolution
and boldness, but in the person of MacMahon he found all
that he could desire — a will conformable to his own, and a
spirit of daring, that was always prepared to encounter the
most formidable emergencies. With such an ally, Kinuccini
flattered himself that he would be able to overrule the
wide -spread feeling of opposition to his religio-political pro-

i'ects ; and, indeed, there can be no doubt that he would
lave succeeded, had he been able to reconcile conflicting
parties and interests, and unite all in opposition to the
common enemy, fie failed to accomplish this ; and though
representing the delegated majesty of Eome, his efforts to
bring about a union of Irish politicians were utterly un-
availing.

MacMahon, although occupying the place of a spiritual
peer in the supreme council, was not advanced to the tem-
poralities of his bishopric till after the battle of Benburb,
when that victory ga«re the confederates a short-lived
triumph in Ulster ; but even tiien, he resided less frequently
in his diocese than in the immediate vicinity of the nunzio
and the camp of Owen O'Neill, who was entirely directed
and influenced by his eounsels. As might be expected,
MacMahon subscribed the rejection of the peace of 1646,
and took an active part in the congregation of the clergy at
Waterford, where the bishops assumed the government,
under the presidency of the nunzio, and committed the sad
blunder of calling O'Neill's army from the pursuit of the
Scotch puritans to support the new regime. Thenceforth
he became, if possible, still more devoted to the nunzio, ap-
proved all his projects, and maintained that his policy and
Owen O'Neill's sword were the sole means for rescuing Ire-
land from present and future oppression.

Acting on this conviction, he caused O'Neill to signify to
the nunzio that the preponderating military power, which
the victory of Benburb had secured for him, was entirely
at his service, and that the CJlster forces were ready to
march on Dublin whenever he might think flt to sanction

ti

THB SEVEZfTIBNTH CXirrtTBY» 241

that enterprise. The rednctioii of the capital, we need
hardly say, was one of flinuccini's most cherished projects,
and as MacMahon was well aware of this, he insisted that
no time should be lost in making the attempt. The nnnzio
hesitated, not, indeed, through apprehension of failure, but
rather from fear of ^ving umbrage to queen Henrietta
Maria, then at Pans ; and it was not tillr after several
weeks of inaction he resolved to summon the metropolis to
surrender.

In the beginning of autumn, 1646, O'Neill advanced
with his Ulster men through the norUi of Leinster, and
being joined by the forces under Preston, they pitched their
camps at Leixlip and Newcastle, while the nunzio and
MacMahon took up their quarters in the immediate vicinity,
to hasten the operations of the two generals. Acting on
the advice of Oastlehaven, Ormond wasted the country all
around before he retired into Dublin, and as the winter had
set in with unusual severity, the confederates were but ill
supplied with provisions. Worst of all, the old jealousies
between Preston and O'Neill had broken out afresh ; and
to add to this complication of difficulties. Lord Olanricarde,
a Catholic and hitherto neutral, appeared on the scene to
tamper with Preston, whose hatred of O'Neill was only
equalled by his want of firmness. Preston would not ad-
vance, and a rumour reached O'Neill's quarters that the for-
mer had concerted measures with Ormond for falling on his
army in front and flank. O'Neill, therefore, had to take
precautions against surprise, for he was led to believe that
Preston meant to destroy him and his. As f<^ the citizens
of Dublin, they were terrified by the proximity of the nun-
zio's armies, and as thev gazed, night after night, from the
tower of Ohrist*s-churcn on the numerous camp fires, that
blazed along the north bank of the Liffey, from Oastleknock
to Lucan, they prayed God. to deliver them from those
wild Ulstermen, who boasted, however, unwarrantably^ that
they were the pope's chosen soldiers. Little, however, did
the good burghers think that bickerings were rife in the
confederate camps, and that the two armies which had
come to seize the city, were more disposed to fly at each
other's throats I In the midst of these dissensions, the
nunzio felt himself bewildered, and apprehending that he
must lose all chance of taking Dublin if he failed to unite
the two generals, he went^ accompanied by the biiriiop of

242 THE IRISH HIEBABCHT IN

Clogher, to Preston^s quarters^ to effect a matual under-
standing. The Leinster general behaved on this occasion
with marked reserve, and though he had been urged to
arrest the bishop of Ologher, he refused to do so. The
conference, however, did not bring about the desired recon-
ciliation ; and much as the nunzio plumed himself on his
courage in traversing the level country north of the city,
*' where a few straggling horsemen might have picked him
up and carried him to lord Ormond,'* all his efforts went
for nothing, so much so, that on a rumour of a parliamen-
tary squat&on having dropped anchor in the bay, O'Neill
and Preston struck zheir tents, and retired hastily in the
direction of Kilkenny.

After tarrying some days at Lucau, to examine articles
of accommodation, which Clanricarde proposed on Ormond*s
behalf, the nunzio and the bishop of Clogher hastened to
rejoin the confederate generals, in the hope of bringing
them back to resume the siege of Dublin. This, however,
they found utterly impracticable ; and the only result of all
their pleading was to induce O'Neill and Preston to sub-
scribe a document, by which they bound themselves to be
true to each other on all future occasions when the inte-
rests of the confederacy might require their combined
action.

Having aided in effecting this temporary reconciliation,
MacMahon retired to his diocese, and there passed the
greater part of 1647, holding conferences of his clergy, ad-
ministering confirmation, restoring churches, and zealously
performing all the other functions of his episcopal office.
At length, however, when news reached him that Preston
had been defeated at Trim by Jones, to whom lord Ormond
surrendered Dublin for a sum of thirteen thousand pounds,
he wrote to Owen O'Neill to march with his army, and save
Kilkenny from the parliamentary forces. The Ulster
general gladly obeyed the summons, marched rapidly on
Trim, occupied the ground where Preston had oeen so
shamefully routed, and kept Jones's troops in check for
fully four months. This bold manceuvre was, indeed, the
the salvation of the confederates ; for O'Neill's sudden ap-
pearance on the scene of the late disaster caused Jones to
retire within the walls of Dublin, and abandon his design
of reducing Kilkenny. MacMahon joined the Ulster ge-
neral at Trim, and remained constantly in his camp till

THE SEVKNTEENTH CENTXTBY. 243

Bummoned by the nunzio to Kilkenny, to take part in the
momentous debates which at that period distracted the
confederate councils.

At the close of 1647, the Ormondist faction resolved, if
possible, to get rid of the nunzio and his adherents, and, in
order to accomplish this, they gave out that the recent
losses and wide-spread poverty from which the whole coun-
try was suffering could not be remedied, except by appeal-
ing to l^e pope, and other foreign potentates, for assistance
in money ana munitions. It was also suggested that the
terms proposed by Ormond, in 1646, should be reconsidered
and accepted, provided the guarantees for religion were
amplified ; and, finally, that deputations should be sent to
the various Catholic courts, to represent the miserable con-
dition of the confederates, and obtain whatever aids they
might be disposed to advance. This, indeed, was an adroit
ruse to get shut of Kinuccini's partisans, and, according to
the programme, it was voted and carried in the assembly,
that M*Mahon should proceed, with lord Muskeny and
Doctor Brown, to the court of Queen Henrietta Maria at
Paris. The bishop, however, saw through the scheme, and
resolved to defeat it. He, therefore, besought the council
to substitute some one in his place ; ** For," said he, *' I am
ignorant of the French and English languages, and the
queen has conceived strong prejudices to me, as it has been
told her that I took an active part in promoting this war,
and rejecting the peace of 1646. Moreover, I have reason
to think that I would be hazarding my Uf e were I to under-
take this mission ; for Digby, the queen's secretary, and
her special favourite, St. Germain, are my sworn enemies.
Find some one else for this business ; for nothing shall
induce me to embark in it." This declaration surprised
and confounded the Ormondists ; and so indignant were
Muskerry, Taaff, Preston, and others, that they waited on
the mayor of Kilkenny, and charged him to have the bishop
of Clogher placed under arrest for contumacy and breach of
privilege. The mayor, however, instead of doing as they
commanded, made the bishop an offer of his protection,
alleging as his reason for doing so, that he did not feel
himself bound to obey the order of the assembly in this
instance. On hearing this, Preston left the city to assemble
his troops that were. encamped in the neighbourhood ; de-
tachments of the garrison were turned out to patrol the

244 THS nasH hixrabcht nr

' streets, and tlie gates were closed to keep the bishop or any
of his friends from communicating with O'Neill, whose tents
were viBible from the ramparts of the city. Next day,
however, MacMahon took his place in the assembly ; but
such was the excitement provoked by his appearance, that
he was forced to retire while the Ormondists were gravely
discussing the legality of committing him to prison. Tha^
indeed, was a serious question ; and those who were for
incarcerating him cited countless precedents, furnished by
history and the statute book; but, as the bishops then

S resent demurred to such special pleading, the Ormondists
isisted that a written order should be sent to MacMahon,
forbidding him to leave the city. The bii^ops, however,
would not sanction this ; and so strenuous was their oppo-
sition, that the assembly caused their written order to be
cancelled, and commissioned their speaker to wait on
MacMahon, and request him not to go beyond the walLa.
Irritated by this untoward proceeding, the nnnzio insisted
that the Ormondists had "violated ecclesiastical immnnity,''
and were, consequently, bound to make reparation for their
error, if they were not prepared to encounter the resent-
ment of Owen O'Neill, who, in his camp at Maryborough,
told the agent of the French court that he would never set
foot in KUkenny till ample apology had been made to the
offended prelate, who was his especial friend and adviser.
Alarmed at this, the assembly made the required atonement^
and appointed the marquis of Antrim to be one of the depu-
tation in lieu of the bishop of Clogher,- whose presence in
Ireland was indispensably necessary at that moment, when
Binuccini was about to resort to those extreme measures,
for the enforcement of which he required the aid of the
carnal weapon.

It is almost superfluous to say that the bishop of Clogher
figured prominently in the council of prelates who rejected
Inchiquin's truce, and from fourteen of whom Rinuccini
procured a conditional power, to excommunicate aXL fa-
vourers of that overture, in conjunction with four specified
bishops, or in case of their non-attendance, with four to
be named by himself. Indeed, in this instance, Mac-
Mahon did nothing more than what might have been
expected from one whose antecedents proved that he was
devotedly attached to the nunzio throughout, and the more
80 as the latter had always shown a decided preference for

THX 8BVXNTEB1ITH CEMTUltT. 245

Owen (VNeill and the Catholics of Ulater. Actuated by
such sentimeDts, he aided the nnnzio in effecting his es-
cape from Kilkenny, and. accompanied him to O'Neill's
camp at Maryborough, where he tarried some time medi-
tating what was best to be done at such a moment, and
how ne might bcvable to make his final exit from Ir^and.
Sad and perilous, indeed, was Rinuccini*s sojourn with
Owen Roe, for the forces which were then at his disposal
could not cope with the united armies of Preston and
Inchiquin, had they marched on Maryborough ; but far
more poignant than the apprehension he entertained of
being sur|>rised and utterly routed by his sworn enemies,
was the intinfktion which Rinuccini gave him of his
approaching departure from the kingdom. O'Neill im-
plored him to abandon his intention, and MacMahon urged
that the great body of the clergy, notwithstanding the
political defection of eight bishops, and three-fourths of the
entire population, still adhered to his cause. But all in
vain, for Rinuccini clearly saw that no permanent benefit
could come of his presence in Ireland, and that he was
utterly powerless to bring about a union of the conflicting
parties who were more intent on sacrificing each other than
acting in concert for the common good. Full of this con-
viction he took leave of O'Neill, and proceeded to Athlone,
where, on ihe refusal of the four authorised bishops to
sanction his last and most daring measure, he summoned
four others in their stead, and with tibeir consent pro-
nounced sentence of excommunication against the abettors
of Inchiquin's truce, and laid all ^rts of the kingdom,
where it would be accepted, under interdict. The bishop
of Cloffher subscribed the sentence, and had the gratifica-
tion of learning soon afterwards, that two thousand of
Preston's soldiers, terrified by the church's thunders, had
deserted that general, and ranged themselves under O'Neill's
standard. Elated by this momentary success, and exas-
perated by the Ormondists, who pronounced him. guilty of
high treason, O'Neill broke up his camp at Maryborough,
and proceeded northwards, in order to reinforce his liUle
army. On this expedition he was accompanied by the
bishop of Clogher, and such was the enthusiasm of the
TJlstermen for both chieftain and prelate, that O'Neill soon
found himself at the head of ten thousand infantry and
fifteen hundred horsey indifferently armed it is tme, but

246 THE IRISH HIERARCHY IN

ready and willing to follow wherever their general might be
disposed to lead them. With this contingent O'Neul and
the bishop returned to Leinster, routed Preston, and then
advanced by forced marches into the county Tipperary,
where four thousand brave peasants enrolled themselves
under the confederate banners, and solemnly pledged them-
selves to stand by the cause of the '*old Irish and the
Church. Nenagh, Banagher, and other strong places on
the Shannon were speedily in the power of O'Neill s troops,
and in this brief but brilliant campaign, the mmzio tells U8
that the Ulster chieftain defeated seven generals who were
opposed to him, and thus, for the fifth time, saved religion
and Ireland from the enemies of both. Having accom-
plished aU this, O'Neill and the bishop returned to the
north, to protect the people of that province from the
inroads of the parliamentarians.

Meanwhile, lord Ormond had resumed the eovemmentj^
and signified to the nunzio that he must quit tne kingdom
wii^out further delay. The intimation was soon followed
by that personage's departure for the shores of France, and
O'Neill and his faithful adherent, the bishop of Clogher,
were left to take whatever course they deemed best for the
good of the country and their own preservation. Finding
himself thus abandoned by his former friends, and driven
to desperation by want of provisions and military supplies,
O'Neill was constrained to accept the overtures of sir
Charles Coote, who proposed to furnish him with a con-
siderable quantity of powder and ball, on condition that he
would march to the relief of Derry, then besieged by the
Scotch, under iord Montgomery. O'Neill accepted the
offer, marched against the Scotch, who fled across the Bann
at his approach, and was splendidly entertained at Derry
by Coote, who professed himself under lasting obligations
to his deliverer. This unnatural alliance, which nothing
but extreme necessity could justify, was not destined to
last, for the English parliament rebuked Coote for treating
with O'Neill, and the latter, disgusted with the hostility he
experienced from those whom he had so generously relieved,
resolved to break with them, and make a tender of his
services to lord Ormond. During his short sojourn at
Derry, O'Neill was seized with a mortal malady, occasioned,
it was said, however tmwarrantably, by poison, with
which Coote caused his wine to be drugged, or, as otherg

THE SBVBNTEENTH CENTUKY. 247

would have it) by a pair of poisoned russet boots, sent him
by one Plunket of Louth, and in this condition he had to
be carried in a horse-litter to Oloughouter, the residence of
his brother-in-law, colonel Philip Eeilly. CNeill's sufiEer-
ings were painful, and, despite the science of the many
physicians who strove to save him, he sank gradually —
** his hair and nails falling off," and expired on the sixth of
November, 1649. The bishop of Clogher never left the
gallant patient's bedside during his protracted iUness, but
remained constantly there preparing him for the '* doubtful
transit," and receiving his last instructions for the main-
tenance of the Ulster army." Two days after the melan-
choly event, O'Reilly, the primate, Magennis, bishop of
Down, and Heber, of Clogher, accompanied by all the
kinsmen and officers of the deceased, followed his mortal
remains to the Franciscan monastery of Cavan, and there
committed them to a grave which, from that time to the

§ resent, has not had a single stone to distinguish it, and,
oubtless, must remain so till the Irish peo^e shall have
learnt to worship the memory of their true heroes.

Being thus deprived of their general, the officers of the
Ulster army resolved that no time should be lost in electing
some one to fill his place, and they accordingly assembled
for that purpose, at Belturbet, earlv in March, 1650. The
meeting was held in the house of MacSweeny, bishop of
Kilmore, who was named to preside on the momentous
occasion. Among those present were the marquis of
Antrim, sir Phelim O'Neill, Henry O'NeiU, Con MacCor-
mack O'Neill, lieutenant-general O'Farrell, Philip Mac-
Hugh O'Reilly, Heber, bishop of Clogher, the bishop of
Down, and many other ecclesiastics. The O'Neills con-
tended that the generalship belonged of right to them, and
that it was hereditary in their family. O'Farrell, on the
other hand, maintained that he, as lieutenant-general to
Owen Koe, was entitled to the command ; and the marquis
of Antrim pressed his own claims, which he grounded on
the intimacy that had so long subsisted between himself
and Owen Roe, to whom he had rendered many signal
services. The debate was protracted and stormy, ai)4 tJie
assembly considering the danger that was likely to ensue,
by electing any of the aforesaid even Heniy, son of the
deceased general, and the most deserving of eUl, resolved to
put an md to further intrigue^ by nominating Heber,

248 THB IAI8H mXRABOHT U

bishop of Clogher, to the vacancrjr. As matter of ooone,
this selection could not please all parties, for some asserted
that MacMahon was not equal to the requirements of the
situation, and others, not having the tear of the conse-
quences before their eyes, and aff^ting to be scandalized,
aid not shrink from asserting, that the combination of
crook and sword was a thing which no true Catholic could
stomach.^ Withal, as there was no remedy for this seeming
inconfffuity, they resolved to follow wheresoever the bishop
Would lead them, for they knew that he was the depository
of Owen O'Xeill's confidence, and fully cognizant of the
treaty which the latter had concluded with lord Ormond
just one month before his decease.

Having now assumed the command, the bishop lost no
time in mustering his troops, and being joined by detach-
ments of Ulstermen, drafted from the garrison of Water-
ford, and several regiments which had seen service in
Leinster and Oonnaught, und^r O'Cahan and other distin-
guished officers, he marched into the county Monaghan at
the head of an army amounting to about 6.000 foot and
600 horse. The influence of MacMahon's name and lineage
in his native province caused multitudes of young recnuts
to rally round his standard, and, in the course of a few
months, he had the satisfaction of seeing his available
force largely increased, and well-disciplined by OTarrell,
whose commission of lieutenant-general had been conJBrmed
by the Belturbet council. Leaving that officer in tempo-
rary command, the bishop preceded to Loghreagh, in
order to take counsel with lords Ormond and CLanricardey
and procure for them such aids as were required for carry-
ing on the war against sir Charles Coote, Venables, and
other leaders who, notwithstanding the recent murder of
king Charles I. and the proclaiming of his successor, still
stood out in open rebellion to the kine. Ormond received
the bishop cordially, condoled with him on the death of
O'Neill, in whose honour, he said, he always placed impli-
cit trust ; and, after congratulating him as successor to the
deceased general, confirmed the appointment with a com-
missidn of the f ollowinc; tenor : —

'*To our trus^ ana weU-beloved bishop, Sver MaC'
Mahon,

" Obhond.

** Whereas, upon thetreal^ with general Owen O'Neal,

THE SBVENTBJSNTH CKNTUBY. 240

deceased, it was, amongst otber particulars, concluded and
agreed upon, that in case of deatn or removal of him, such
other general or commander-in-chief should be authorised
by commission from us to command his Majesty's forces of
the province of Ulster, natives of the kingdom, as should
be by general consent of the gentry of that province elected
«tnd made choice of for the same. And, whereas, in a
general meeting lately held by the gentry for that purpose,
it was agreed upon, and so represented unto us, that yon
should exercise that command over the said forces. We,
therefore, upon the consideration thereof, and of the care,
judgment, valour, and experience in martial affairs, as 'also
of the readiness and good affections of you, to do his ma-

J'esty service, have nominated and appointed, and we do
lereby nominate and appoint you, the said bishop. Ever
JUacmahon, to be general of aU his Majesty's said forces,
of horse and foot, of the province of Ulster, natives of the
kingdom. Giving, &e., &c.

Having concerted with Ormond and Clanricarde the plan
of the approaching campaign, and obtained from them as-
surance of plentiful supplies of field artillery, victuals, and
ammunition, MacMahon returned to Monaghan, and placing
himself at the head of his army, marched on Charlemont,
where he and his chief officers published a manifesto, in
which they invited the Scots to forget the animosities that
had hitherto existed between them and the Irish, and to
I I sink all distinctions of nation and religion for the sakd of
the royal interest and service. Many of the Scots were
I converted to royalism by this appeal, but the great majority

, , of Coote's forces revolted at the idea of serving under the
standard of a '* popish bishop," no matter what side of the

I quarrel he chose to take, and therefore resolved to share
i the fortunes of their old leaders.

II Seeing there was no hope of detaching the Scots from
d Coote and Yenables, the bishop resolved to attack them in
)f detail, and, if possible, prevent the juncture of their re-
i- spective forces, as neither of them would have been able to
16 nght him single-handed. With this object, he marched
!• northwards along the Bann, stormed Dungiven, Ballycastle,

and other places of no ^at importance, and finally

C' crossed the Foyle, near Lifford, in order to maintain a

communication, through Ballyshannon, with Oonnaught,

whence he expected the sux)plies promised by Ormond and

250 TB1B IRISH rniRAKCHY I»

Clanricarde. This, however, proved to be a disastrous
manoeuvre, for it enabled Venables to send Coote, who was
then encamped at Skirfolas, in the neighbourhood of Let-
terkenny, a reinforcement of one thousand veteran soldiers,
who had seen service under Munroe, from the commence-
ment of the Irish war. On the twenty-first of June, 1650,
the twa armies were within an hour*s march of each other ;
and as both were pretty equally matched, the bishop re-
solved to risk a battle, contrary to the advice of his most
experienced officers, who insisted that he should hold a
council of war, and abide by the decision of the majority.
To this he submitted reluctantly, and while he and his
chiefs were engaged discussing the momentous Question, a
woman of uncommon stature, gaunt, and dressea in white,
forced her way into their midst, and quoted an old prophecy
which foretold that the Irish were doomed to be overthrown
on the banks of the Swilly. MacMahon, however, paid
little heed to the crazed virago, and, perhaps, less to the
unanswerable argunients of Henry Roe O'Neill, who urged,
that instead of engaging the enemy on broken ground,
where the Irish troops could not act with precision, it
would be more prudent to wait till the former should be
obliged, through want of provisions, to shift their quarters,
when it would be easy to fall on them, and cut them up in
detail. It was also urged, that the force at the bishop's
dis^sal had been weakened by the absence of a large body,
which he detached to seize Castle Doe ; but all arguments
were thrown away upon him, for he was obstinate as he
was rashly brave. The other officers concurred with Henry
O'Neill, and besought the bishop to act on their unanimous
decision, but, far from doing so, he taunted them with
cowardice, and more than hinted that they were over
squeamish in shedding their own or the enemy's blood.
Smarting under this rebuke, the chiefs summoned their men
to arms, and demanded to be led against Coote. The at-
tack of the Irish was impetuous, but, as Henry O'Neill had
foretold, the rugged and stony nature of the ground would
not suffer them to act in compact masses, and, notwith-
standing all their chivalry, they were taken in flank and
rear by Ooote's forces, who, in the course of a few hours,
routed them with slaughter. Eighteen captains of the
O'Farrells were slain on the fatal field, and fifteen hundred
of the common soldiers perished before the Are of Coote's

THE SEVENTEENTH CENTTJRY. 251

musketeers. Henry O'Keill, and many others of his name
and kindred, were captured, and brought to Deny, where
Coote had them summarily executed, after quarter given,
and notwithstanding the heavy ransoin which was offered
for their lives. It was, indeed, a disastrous battle to the
Irish~ill-advised as any could have been ; and the long
train of calamities which followed it was altogether attri-
butable to the phlegmatic obstinacy (^ the prelate, whose
only qualification for such a scene was animal courage.
The army of Ulster, which had been so long the mainstay
of the war, was thus entirely broken up, and the Cromwel-
lians were left at liberty to parcel out the land among their
adherents, who, doubtless, could not but be grateful to the
rashness of Heber MacMahon.

As for him, he contrived to make his escape from the
bloody field of Letterkenny, in company with lieutenant-
general OTarrell, and some squadrons of horse, riding day
and night, without meat or drink, for twenty-four hours,
till he and his jaded followers reached the neighbourhood
of Enniskillen, where they were set upon by a detachment
from the garrison. The bishop's escort offered what resis*
tance they could, but were soon obbged to yield to superior
force, and surrender at discretion. He himself was severely
wounded in this last action, and so was O'Farrell ; but less
fortunate than the latter, who made his escape, MacMahon
was carried prisoner to £nniskillen, and there committed
to the common jail, to wait Coote's final sentence.

At that period, John King, afterwards raised to the peer-
age by Charles the Second, was governor of Enniskulen,
and, it must be told to his honour, that he treated the cap-
tive bishop with singular humanity ; for he not only visited
him frequently, but was so charmed by his frank, soldier-
like^bearing, that he resolved, if possible, to save his life.
Actuated by this generous impulse, he wrote to Coote that
it would be disgraceful to trample on a fallen enemy, or
shed tiie blood of a man whose followers were crushed and
scattered, and could no longer bear arms against the parlia-
ment forces. This representation, however, was useless,
for Coote replied, that MacMahon must be hanged forth-
with. The despatch that brought this order enclosed the
death-warrant ; and on perusing it, King thought he de-
tected some legal informality, which justified him in post-
poning execution till he had made a last appeal for the pri-